I want to smell it

I want to smell the symul flowers of Fagun

of the morning paper,

New book Malater R

of your returned letter.

I want to smell the scent of my mother

The broken frames of father's glasses,

Sister's packed dolls,

Brother's hobby of colorful kites.

I want to smell the fresh harvest of the field

of unadulterated baby food,

No more hot coffee in the morning

Coins stored in earthen banks.

I want to smell the new poetry book

The sweat of the busy worker's body,

free movement of girls,

And Priya has messy hair.