LIFE: Reflections on Life: Nostalgia in Poetry

For a place I haven't been In eight years

Where the winter streets need salt

Dust so thick you cough getting on and off the bus to commute

To the brown line tracks lined with saw dust to keep the L train from falling off due to friction:

Somewhere else Lake Michigan's frozen waters crash wave after wave upon the sea walls lining lake shore drive.

Till spring arrives.

Author: Anonymous