A Temporal Vacation through Decades

When the world goes quiet, I dream.

I dream of traveling through time, just a simple spree.

A simple spree through decades, eras past.

Eras past, a time where I feel joy at last.

The Roaring Twenties, the age of jazz, 

Louis Armstrong’s “West End Blues,”

Flapper skirts, flaring through the city streets,

Gatsby’s lavish soirees, a time of glitz and glamor,

The American Dream.

Or maybe the Fifties, the golden age,

Drive-in movies, a bottle of ‘Cola in hand,

Sitting in a diner, wishing for a red Bel Air,

Singing Elvis’s “Jailhouse Rock,” a time of innocence,

The American Dream.

Or perhaps the Sixties, the hippie era,

Peace signs plastered everywhere,

Greasers with their slicked back hair,

Ponyboy dressed in head-to-toe denim, a time of change,

The American Dream.

Or even the Eighties, the neon era,

Playing Tiffany through boomboxes,

Watching the Breakfast Club, 

Leg warmers and yoga, a time of joy,

The American Dream.

Or possibly the Nineties, the grunge era, 

Kurt Cobain singing “In Bloom,”

Friday nights watching “Seinfeld,”

Flannels filling your closet, a time of prosperity,

The American Dream.

Yet, here I am, in the warmth of the present,

Feeling nostalgic for a moment I’ve never experienced,

Maybe in another universe, they say,

But in dreams, I’ll dance through the years,

A vacation of decades, where moments are held dear.