The past seems so sweet
as if it were just a dream
so fun so surreal,
as if I could still feel
the uncomfort of the matress
the coldness of the floor
the awkwardness of the shower
the chalk on the door
what it was like to be a freshman
to live life away from home
to leave behind my family
to find a family of my own
a group of brothers and sisters
forever connected one way or another
a group of silly college students
where I sometimes was the mother
And now I look back on this past
reliving each day in a slew of dreams
wishing to go back, if only for a moment
But time travel is harder than it seems.
