Eighteen Months

Lying in a tub of lukewarm water.

Listening to a close friends song.

Inspiring a recollection overdue too long.

Memories are rungs on an infinite ladder, dissolving as you climb on.

Nostalgia is a brief illusion, ambivalent, but then soon it's gone.

Water cold will flow.

The water's flowing through my mind.

For one and a half years.