The senses, when struck with just the right trigger

Synapses, flare up revealing quite the nostalgic picture

At once, thrown into that space, back to that time, doomed to repeat those same juvenile mistakes

Reliving all that Emotion, that you thought was gone, or had been carelessly misplaced

The crisp autumn air mingling with the fresh smell of new death, what a wonderful taste

Though, it ought well be ashes, for what later took place

Oh, Sweet Summer Child, if you only knew the Stakes