The Good Old Days

It would take a flight of fancy
to parachute me back to the days
when power meant steam
and strawberries were seasonal,
when colours were primary 
and pure as smiles 
in everyday brightness.
When landings were soft,
music unplugged and 
comic books made of paper.
But those days always needed
a flight of fancy,
they were always an illusion,
a torn page from a comic book
filled with things
that couldn’t be said.

by Lynn White

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