Nostalgia, my brother,
Is the name of my daughter.
She was born in an instant, when I missed you with my beat heart.
I fell flat, in hot love, with something that was not born,
Yet found you first loved me and save me, like, daily,
So Bros I remember,
The clefts of this ember,
Our passion for loving the world, being called worldly,
And then in December, we rice past our has-beans; to love all we meet till they toothpick nostalgia.