Nostalgia

Nostalgia is concrete…tangible.
It feels
Like the icy prickling
On your fingertips
As you wipe away
Dew from your windowpane.

It has the fragrance
Of a misty afternoon…
Of empty deodorant tins
and sunshine imprisoned
in furry blankets.

It tastes
Like coffee and alcohol,
And water from a flask…
And the sweetness of glycerin
On an extra-dry skin.

If Nostalgia was intangible,
Like dreams, hopes and love,
I wouldn't be feeling
The same enthusiasm
I felt a year ago…
As I sipped coffee with mist,
And anticipated our first meeting…