The Smell of Green

Green is not a rare sight to see,

It’s abundant and sometimes obscene;

But mostly it’s beautiful from flower stems to leaves.

It’s the spirit yearning to be free.

But most of all, it’s the smell that triggers all things in me

Because for me,

Green is the colour of my most vivid memories.

Unlike red, yellow, and blue, primary as they may be,

Do not smell like the colour green.

The smell of a freshly mowed lawn—

It takes me quickly back to a time now forlorn.

When I have christened out the field where my youth was formed,

And where my love of nature was born.

The smell of grass is the smell of it between my toes,

When I played and saved with Apollo.

Or when I followed the brook to the shady hollow,

And dreamed of my fantasies set in tomorrow.

Green is a smell that takes me through time,

When I can smell the sweet scent of pines.

As I walked up the side of mountains shaded from sunshine,

An assent with my family, and a humble climb.

Nothing can beat that calming relief.

When sailors left home and set out to sea

They longed for land by looking for green.

Just like we do at the end of winter waiting for spring.

I love the colour green.

It’s more than the colour of the eyes I use to see,

It’s every great feeling stored in my memories.

Reminding me of love, my youth, my being, my me.

It’s a beautiful thing—

And it is perhaps the most consistent something.

Go out and smell and be—

Because nothing can compare to the smell of green.