softness is nostalgia

—and that is, my imaginary nostalgia

someplace I miss yet somewhere I never been

perhaps in a gentle summer from some years of my past or maybe

in another life of mine,

I would be living

by the quiet countryside in a cottage

with open windows to let the breezes in

and clotheslines to hang

the warm linen, bleached by pale sunlight and clouds of billowing dust

from untouched treasures and floating thoughts

a place to just

be.

softness would be laying on the roof

with my mind to write its literature

or running through that open prairie

with grasses to tickle my nose and the wind to dance in my hair

somehow

I have these memories of a life I have never felt.

and I shall continue to dream.