Twenty Twenty

As nostalgia hits me with good times gone,

And memories of permanent goodbyes,

The autumnal sun hits through the naked trees,

Laying itself upon the rooftops of promising fortunes.

Bouncing off the windows,

the sun reflects off the cars,

That are passing quicker than the times I so miss.

The brown, broken leaves lie helpless.

I feel myself stagnant, there is nowhere to move.

Every step is met with disdain, questions, rejections -

This can’t be the way it shall be forever?

Surely not?

But as I stand here, with the sun still shining through those naked trees,

The world seems empty,

As does my heart.