Something brought you back to me today,
Like a forgotten fragrance that shanghais my senses
And suddenly,
I am tangling lavender-scented sheets again,
Remembering your skin.
The song said,
Caroline,
Please be mine,
You're my kind of girl.
How is it we can forget pain or bliss and carry on, parking the car,
Fixing the leak,
Starting the stew?
Today was like plucking a morsel back from a simmering pot--
I snapped my fingers,
And savored a hot delicious memory
Of you.
____________________________________
it must have been a fragrance that sparked the memory.
ReplyDeleteSounded like you had some lovely moments together, reminded me of the part in Annie Hall when he's having the flashbacks of all the little scenes they'd shared.
Liked "starting the stew," took me places.
Lovely poem.
Thanks, Jannie, it's nice to see you back again!
ReplyDeleteI just loved your reply on "Mothers", that made me day.
*sigh* There are many fortunate people in the world, Shay.
ReplyDeleteHowever, the very fortunate have you write them love poems
This has got to me my favorite among your poems, Shay. It has that lilt and brevity, sense-memory and spice in the ending, that reel me in. ;) Cheers.
ReplyDeleteI try always to include those very ingredients, S.L. I'm delighted to hear that this one is your favorite. There is a companion piece that I posted back in March, called "Caroline, Created." You might enjoy that one as well. ;-)
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