The sounds and smells Reminded me of my childhood; Days amongst my Fathers’s students. The laughter over the cooking As I struggled to learn Foreign names. Rich spice permeated the air Surrounding us Even as we stepped Off the bus. Scents of welcome Wafting by on the breeze As the silk ribbon Dances in my hair.
The iridescent hues blur the world As the sun sets in the west. A lazy sense of finality settles Like a mantle of time upon my shoulders.
Turning the corner visions assault me. A bird chirps from a nearby tree. I look around expecting you to be Near enough– I could reach out and touch you if I tried.
Shaking ghosts from my mind I walk on down The stairs to my comfortable home Knowing I’ll be greeted by the wagging tail Of my only child.
The comfort of having something there Is never lost on me, though, So I smile, pet the wriggling pup Hang up my coat, and greet the cat.
I pause.
There you are again. The comforting scent of familiarity Wrapping me in the memories of Love and friendship.
I must be loosing my mind.
Muttering to my pets, I drop my keys and open my One piece of mail, only to toss it aside in disgust Turning my back on the offending junk as it Floats down onto the growing pile by the trashcan.
Unconsciously, I glide over to the stereo and soon Music fills the room. Looking down suddenly as yet another memory Flashes though my mind and I chuckle at my find.
A bottle overturned— The pungent scent that had been Taunting me since my return home– Slowly dripping down the dark wood And onto the carpet.
Avoiding the memories both Joyful and poignant: the loss of you still fresh, I quickly clean up the mess And push aside the slight twinge of disappointment.
I knew you weren’t really here And the ghosts were merely figments, Yet, the possibility lifted The stress and exhaustion for just a while.
Memories are a comfort.
And while I turn back and Wander into my bedroom, I failed to see a small Gift left for me…
The white rose stands in the corner Quiet and regal, wild in it’s mystery, Bowed slightly in acknowledgment That anything… can happen…
Scent is a funny thing to me. It rules my memories With an iron fist of Haunting recollections. The incense burning on my alter Comforts and protects, Reminding me of days spent In the shelter of friendship. Ancient flavors and smells, Their temptation soothes and Wraps around me Like arms around a well loved Child. Hookah’s and twirling scarves Delicate fabric falling from the hands of Exotic dancers; imagery from a world Extinct save for in our imaginations. Scent is a funny thing to me… It makes memories so much more Potent and poignant with The constant reminders. Both past and present, As they weave an intricate Yet invisible blanket around me Relax me and tuck me in. GS 2002