Image credit; Simona Sergi @ Unsplash

Behind the broken golden seal

trapped are sepia toned memories.

Ironically, tentacles of its grip imprison my heart

revealing the true kidnaper and kidnappee.

I am the hostage here

to letters of accounts and tales afar

those that jolted, coaxed and awakened

chapters from the past.

I resist before giving in

to feel the feelings that felicitous letter rings in.

Tugging on my soul are ebbs and flows of past visions and visitors

like the aches caused by mementos stolen from gift shops

I get trapped pleasurably in those pages

I get trapped presumably without tethers and cages

In the fortress of nostalgia

I seat myself, like a dried up dahlia.

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Written for Sajdie’s WDYS Challenge #65