The Old Kind of Way
fragment · may 2021 (est)
From those dreaded questions of my dad, to that gentlemanly bow and the kiss on my hand.
From that bouquet of roses, "Only for you, Miss", to those sheepish twirls in my pink sundress.
From catching ladybugs on our secret picnic, to eating those stale macrons - how tragic.
From humming our favorite songs on the hammock, to those polaroid pictures that are nowhere near panaromic.
From chasing squirrels with the pellet guns, to hopscotching till we find a place to begin our lil clan.
From drinking from the same spot of that English tea, to letting you hold me up high for the whole world to see.
From pigeon posting whenever I miss you, to the hand-made morning stew.
From being complete strangers, to those old-age lovers.
That's how I wanna fall for you, the old kinda way...
From that bouquet of roses, "Only for you, Miss", to those sheepish twirls in my pink sundress.
From catching ladybugs on our secret picnic, to eating those stale macrons - how tragic.
From humming our favorite songs on the hammock, to those polaroid pictures that are nowhere near panaromic.
From chasing squirrels with the pellet guns, to hopscotching till we find a place to begin our lil clan.
From drinking from the same spot of that English tea, to letting you hold me up high for the whole world to see.
From pigeon posting whenever I miss you, to the hand-made morning stew.
From being complete strangers, to those old-age lovers.
That's how I wanna fall for you, the old kinda way...
☕
marginalia
“Courtesies of a bygone era, preserved in memory like pressed flowers between the leaves of a worn journal.”
For those who still believe in handwritten letters, slow courtship, and the weight of a promise.
this is still the current me, hidden under all the PhD papers. an old piece from high school, but the heart that wrote it never really left.
— Eman, peer-reviewed
⸻ visual ephemera · archive plates ⸻
⟡ archival plates · click to enlarge ⟡