The Romance of A Hometown
the romance of a hometown
I don’t recognise in the bends
of the bridges, revealing
horizons of a never-ending sunset
of our last summer.
the love I know of nostalgia
is found in the slope of a park
by Golders Green, the shortcut
that lead to an endless hope.
the smell of freshly baked bread
through the opened window late
in the hour at Brockley —
how none of us deserved
the goodness it tempted us.
the plain greens of spring,
under a gloomy skyline.
the memories breezing through
the murk and chills, where
I will always await reunions,
after reunions, after
reunions.
the romance of a hometown
I find in the bittersweet
of never being able to stay,
yet I know in every farewell
goodbyes never last.
It was not too long ago when I watched Lady Bird for the second time, and there was something so beautiful about it that resonated so much about home, escape-for-‘better’, and nostalgia. I wrote this poem while on a bus ride home, right when the dusk hit late at nine in the evening. It brought back memories, especially summers in the past in my years in London, of moments we don’t really talk about — moments that were so mundane, they made up the nostalgia.
If you’d like to read more of my poems, you are more than welcome to browse on my Instagram page.
