The sun’s embracing warm rays,

An antique porcelain glass dish,

Has me craving something bittersweet,

From better days.

I reach in,

And find a familiar taste,

Like grandma’s old cinnamon apple paste,

After an evening of turkey gravy and good company.

I go in for another,

This time smooth as butter,

Soft as a heated kernel,

And nostalgic as an 8 o’clock Disney movie.

The sun draws near,

I can feel the crispy cold turn freshly warm, 

As I’m further tempted 

To indulge my sweet tooth. 

Fruity blast.

A light watered down orange tang,

Accompanied by a frost as temperamental as the weather,

Melting down our cheeks and fingers as we ran through the past.

Chocolatey bliss.

Snickers, Milkyways, Three Musketeers, Hershey Kisses, 

Luxurious chocolates with brands no one’s ever heard of,

And with the courtesy of a sugarrush, we ran. 

Then I pull something sour,

Because not every candy is sweet,

Not every window to the past is clean,

Not every game of tag ended with smiles and dry eyes. 

I pull another,

Before I answer the beckoning call of a backyard adventure.

I pop in a raspberry flavoured one,

Just before I try dirt for the first time.

I feel the cracking exterior of lindor give way to a velvety interior,

Which is cut short by mom’s judgemental stare at my 13th piece of candy.

The last one tastes like the sea,

But sorrowful. 

For it’s not the tang of the sea,

But the tang of the record “Lollipop” by the Chordettes turned into “Good Riddance” by Green Day. 

It’s not the sound of raging waves meeting sand before the tide,

Instead, it’s the fading sound of a swingset collecting dust. 

It’s not the fresh smell of the ocean or the beauty of the sun over the watery horizon,

But the forlorn aroma turned painfully nostalgic.

There’s no beauty in goodbyes, 

At least not the abrupt kind with no closure.

Ties cut clean like a knife to an unsuspecting stray thread,

Like a misfit toy only appreciated years after it’s too late. 

I spit the candy out like a bug had violated my mouth.

The salty tinge brought on too much salt from my eyes,

So I instead returned from the past. 

Before my limit was surpassed.

As if it held a scrapbook of my past memories,

Upon seeing my tears cascade soundlessly down my cheeks, 

The candy dish was satisfied,

And decided to save its stories for a rainy day.