Nostalgia floods my senses, often, these days,
A gush of emotions happens in many ways.
The rich often break into nostalgia to boast
The poor merely have history, to raise a toast.
Am I rich, or am I poor, is the question in my mind
As I let the ticking time clock unwind, and wind.
But, even as I engage in this everyday banter
I realize, soon enough, it really does not matter.
Rich or poor, past or or present, rarely affect me
As long as I allow myself, to simply let me be.
