Dear History

Dear History
Even in the cold Novembers, I felt the warmth of July.
When I hold you in my hands, I see decades running by.
I loved you so, and you are the reason I somehow survived—
A subject for others, but a story for me, a satire for those who decry.

History, you stayed.
You were the warmest cup of coffee in December sky,
Turning my mind pink and my heart into a ray of daisy sunlight.
I love reading you, but I love even more how I feel when I read you.

History, you decayed, but left your patches on my skin
how I feel after my good winter sleep.
When I don’t read, I imagine.
There is nothing more peaceful than you in my hands.
My eyes linger in 1849s , you are the mother of my love for

History, dear History, you are so kind to me.
You are like a breeze flowing across my face
while I lay on the beach and laze.
Illusions, delusions, all wet kisses and no seclusions—
No other subject could do what you did to me.

My heart first beat for you when I was just eleven,
And it still beats the very same way,
Lay a book on it , and tell me you would stay,
When I know , what happened and how it progresses,
The courses of past settled to rest. 

I can`t choose a period or a timeline,
You are like river , you flow through to connect to the oceans of contemporary times,
You would never know what you did to me,
How safe I felt with you,
When they used to play. 

I chose to stay in your lap as your caressed my face with your gentle touch
I love tales, maybe I love fantasies, fiction is not my blood,
But you still look unreal to me

When I write a paper for you, or do my research,
You feel like the nap of cozy winter months ,
So I get comfy to read, and I read more , and more ,
Until I stop to realize, you are my muse , making me elope ,

In the centuries of events , in the decades of intents,
I loved your WHYS? HOWS? & your WHATS?
You are the curtain through which I see,
Why past Is the reflection of how wise one can be.

Leeza