Linda Meant Beautiful
Nostalgia is an ivory-silk bride’s dress
From long ago locked sternly in amber.
This type of wistfulness protects that tress
You stole and treasure because the camber
Of such dejection is extreme beyond
Pink sentiment, especially if slipped
Between the chapters of a book of blonde,
Chased pages turned into eternal crypt
For faded, crushed, and dessicated flowers
Between the memorizing leaves. The pain
From these remembrances prolongs the hours
And touches paper with a brown-haired stain.
..Nostalgia is a Mariana Trench
That nothing but pale death will ever quench.