The Unsteady, Unready Step into the Unknown

A pantoum-ish I wrote about nostalgic feelings, introspecting at the early morning hours.

It’s just another morning

being homesick for the past.

The early air forlorning,

reminds me things don’t last

Can’t you please just bring back the past?

‘Cause I fear getting older.

When hope has no hope to last
my heart is growing colder.

Those I love soon get older

and slowly fade away.

And this house becomes colder,
to the point I will not stay.

Time will evanesce away,

nostalgia forlorning.

But I’m not sure I can stay

another homesick morning.

Author's Note

Help with meter would be appreciated. I'm looking to turn this piece into a song eventually. I'm aware that the word "forlorning" is a bit of a protologism. I use it to mean making one feel forlorn.