Nostalgia

How to say the million things that well up in my heart
when I read the words that may be meant for me,
while fumbling with the seemingly unsayable other things
that float up, without permission, into the overflowing well.

My tangled thoughts, thrashing round the inky depths,
wrangling with each other like hungry sharks circling
the chum thrown in to woo them to their capture and slaughter,
will not settle on one spot - angry, or happy, or hurting;

Muddled, whipping through my head like a wild summer storm,
with no controls in place to stop their frantic streaking pace
across the heaving, flustered quadrants of my mind, a maelstrom
in gray and blue, struggling with the dissonant nostalgia of Fall.

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