Nostalgic
About being lovesick
That treacle poured, sticky toffee pud-sick
A poker hand that ends up in a golden band
And even when the cards are flipped
The hand you’re dealt, you would stick
No matter how much wealth was stripped
You’d maintain the tightest of grips
Because it’s a good fit.
And in time that initial arousal
Becomes a loving house; full.
poorman'sdreams 