Over the nostalgia I will sing my song

It is well

It is well with my soul

So that the sun will shine

And fine

Yes I will be fine with my nostalgic

Melancholic, drooling, superlative

Nostalgic. Purposive

And full of the mercies the years have called out to us

For it is all over;

Over the nostalgia.

 

That they said in that land I will forget

That they told of the lies that a new breeze carries on its wings

Over the nostalgia that they told

Of nostalgic, melancholic

Drooling and superlative

Nostalgia. I will not forget

For it is over; quite

Over the nostalgia

 

“Do it for the family.”

“Daddy will be dancing in his grave for you.”

How this they told it to me

And shielded me

And my nostalgia

My nostalgic, melancholic

Phlegmatic yet evasive nostalgia

Torn between the thought and the urge

For it is over; not quite

Over the nostalgia.

 

But how do I forget to share the moments?

How do I forget to relive the soft, tender

Melancholic yet phlegmatic sensation

Of soft and sweet feel of your lips

Buried. Married. Glued to mine.

For it is over; quite

Over the nostalgia.

 

That the hurt of solitude

Sparks my heart of the memories of our days

Of our days together

Holding hands

Sipping on ice and biting into ice cream like babies

I’ve slept in your alms and dressed your hair

But now I’m nostalgic

Melancholic yet phlegmatic

For it is over; surely

Over my nostalgia over you.

*The author is a journalist/ writer based in Akosombo. His debut project: Epistles to my Bubune, is scheduled for release in coming months. He blogs at www.therealetsey.wordpress.com.

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