Deja Vu

Board a carriage invisible

With a return ticket to a

Sentimental little town called

Nostalgia, where the streets are

Narrow, cobbled, and quiet,

Save for hard-heeled boots that

Click-clack, and walking sticks that

Tip-tap the rhythm of “The Blue Danube.”

The hands of a clock tower pause, and

Creak back to an almost-forgotten hour,

Watching shadows stretch like memories.

It’s no mere maudlin journey to

Neverland, but a notion tried and true,

For who can deny there’s something

Magical about the flickering of

Candlelight and that moment of déjà vu?

 

 

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I often have a wish of having lived in those days...something about them....they still had some of those when my dad was a kid....he told me stories.
this poem tells me a story of many stories of how it was. Picturesque.
j.