I've always felt a sense of deja vu when I peer into an old black and white photo, a familiar belonging in the fibers of an aged handkerchief. I look at the past with a sense of longing.
Old pocket watches feel at home in my palm. I want to drench in 1920's perfume and let the dust settle on the roaring boom of the prohibition.
Adorn my body in the era of romance, let the sparkle soak into my skin, pour me into glass.
I want to take the first nonstop flight from New York to Paris and dance my way through the golden age on a jazz resolve.
Drive a coupe to the sunset, along shores of serenade of 'it had to be you', a song to last the decades through.
I am an outline of an old soul dining in with the future's kin. I am presently here but look back with a grin.
Drive a coupe to the sunset, along shores of serenade of 'it had to be you', a song to last the decades through.
I am an outline of an old soul dining in with the future's kin. I am presently here but look back with a grin.
KeilaCoateWomack January 2, 2013 (all rights reserved)
