110 Degrees

Kendra Lyn
Jul 24, 2023
1 min read

Whistling loudly is the sun's hot air

Above and around me; encapsulating.

I'd hoped it would be freeing, exhilarating,

But, only bringing remorse and yearning.

A yearning for what could have been

(Even if just a hope, that you could have seen me);

For what I should have been.

Nostalgia doesn't grow us up.

Instead, frozen in the past I tread,

Against a current of emotions;

A desire to dream again.

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