"Out of Reach" By Julia Dun Rappaport

Photo by Emre Can Acer from Pexels

Her wistful affections are silken and blurred in my
heart. We call her
“Nostalgia.”

Sweet Nostalgia, her hair is made of honey.
Sad Nostalgia, her eyes tell you that you can
never go back. She owns our memories and keeps them in her glowing
library. A library full of light and echoes of the
past.
It is locked.
The key rests in the pocket of her flowing dress, out of reach, until
she decides otherwise.

I hear 
the shelves are made of the chocolate you had when you were
three. Your grandmother gave it to you.
But Nostalgia knows that,
of course.

The vibrant books are the ones that your hands held when they were
smaller. The rooms are
familiar. You have been there before. Long
ago. But the memories are just out of reach and you can’t go
now.

Nostalgia calls my name sometimes
to remind me that she
will never leave.
Don’t let her steal you from the
present.

Nostalgia is an ocean, often calm and placid, sometimes
dangerous, but always
changing.
Be grateful when she
blesses you with a
smile. She is not always kind.

When you catch her slender arm,
cling to it.

Julia Dun Rappaport is fourteen years old; she lives in Boston, Massachusetts. Julia spends most of her time sketching, writing poems, and lint-rolling the fur of her two dogs off of her clothes. She is inspired by the work of Ada Limón and Sandra Cisneros.