A poem on Childhood.
Bitter(sweet) recollections of the past, brought by a distant smell of barbecue.
This house doesn’t smell like cakes anymore
Sweet subtle scents that would leek into every room
Pulling us to the source
Tongues burning on eagerness.
And stale, uneaten, store-bought pastries lay on the kitchen counter.
This house isn’t loud anymore
Screaming that would embed into walls
Following us around for days, like unsettled spirits.
And now desperate pleads leave her lips
Her languid stubbornness dulls.
Today the neighbourhood smelt of warmth and barbecue,
Of being 13, eagerly awaiting the food cooking on the grill
Listening to the murmur and gossip of family
Laughing the way she laughed with her head tilt back
Remembering who she was
And who she is lives in her air
Dissipated with warmth and familiarity.
-Eian
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Comments (1)
Sweet memories. Loved your poem.