the problem with nostalgia

as winter slowly brings us to our knees
as metaphor if not in actual fact
we do not think of all the things we lacked
long years ago back in the west indies
our minds roam freely to those sunlit seas
with figueroa we seek the flower tacked
to the lush tree and as we're daily packed
in metro train forgetting as in we squeeze
the harder times we recall only the ease
of walking on those warm december days
and not the hardships nor the myriad pains
of having the hardest of masters to please
nor of the sun's harsh and blistering rays
we think only of the light and the warm rains