Nostalgia Is Not Always To Be Trusted - Marianna Pliakou

I know, Nostalgia lives in the past.

She owns the knot,
that holds it all together.
Faces and smells and sounds,
wearing Her perfume,
they walk on stretching threads of clocks.
Strings from quondam days, tangled up to now,
laying claim.

I think of her as friend,
often I fear sheʼs not.
For whilst our compass faces North,
Her voice keeps pointing South.
And so she comes, in all her majesty,
a lustful Siren whom we, sometimes, must ignore.

Marianna Pliakou