Sense
Do you remember how she smelled
like Christmas?
How she smiled
like rain?
Do you think of her, sometimes
when snow and laundry soap
fill your senses?
Or when the wind catches the leaves
and they laugh in your ear
sing you to sleep?
Maybe it's the reason your eyes cloud over
when you feel silk
against your fingers
Because for a moment
you're cradled in her arms
Peter Pan and Hook
tugging at your eyelashes
Some bittersweet reminisce
of quilted portrait frames
salted tears
and candy-cane red lipstick
tuning your dreams
And with simple twinges of regret
feather-like brushes of remorse
you cave
collapse
Wish you could remember more
than a smell
or a sound
fainter than teardrops
Wish everything didn't remind you
you couldn't.
Copyright © Sarah Rosendahl | Year Posted 2010
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