Poetry: ‘Nosebuds blooming in your mind: Find the fragrance of lost time’
Feel by your nose the heat of toast
And pass the sizzles into ghosts;
They haunt now too the tombs of smells
You’ve smelled but once and not again.
A road once driven on maps can tell
The phantom-sense of caravans.
Remember dog parks and their heat,
The musk of earth under your feet,
The sharpened pencils (new solutions
For dunes of challenge—maghrib ablutions),
The smiled pain of oil paints, or the
Whiff of something too unstained.
Smell the roses blooming now,
But thank the ghosts your mind allows.
Remember, feel, and don’t let go:
If watered well these memories grow.
Read more: Poetry: ‘The Clouds Are Cold on Towers Thin’
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