#845604 added April 3, 2015 at 2:05am Restrictions: None
Warm Memories
I close my eyes and let my mind go
Let it trip along the daffodil and hyacinths
Their scents so pure, of new born spring
I smile and let the memory comfort
I see my grandmother, her smile so warm
Feel her arms as they pull me into her embrace
I wipe the flour from her cheek and laugh
As the smell of biscuits tease
My mouth it waters, my nose does twitch
I long to taste their rich buttery sweetness
But soon my eyes will open
And the memories will fade
But for now I am happy to sit
In my grandmother's sphere
And feel her unconditional love
And acceptance of all I am.
April 2, 2015
Prompt: "Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits," said Carl Sandburg.
Since April, the poetry month, starts tomorrow, what does poetry mean to you? Odd wee phrase... but it makes me think of scents and sensory imagery and what those bits conjure. A sweetness of fragrance... a purity of nature homemade love... the scent of biscuits calling you home.... drawing you back to your past and the love ones you hold dear.
To synthesize these two elements pulls then into a poem... one of distant past that is held dear and cherished.
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