Strange Air

I can smell my past in the particles of air that surround me. Familiar images flood through my mind. All that was lost, from all that has been found. It all came to rest in the final days of my childhood. I can smell my past in the musty blast of hot air In the room. How much I’ve come to appreciate that odd placed Nostalgia. So much about that time places me into Careless drifting. I can smell my past as if the moon is still Triumphant in the sky and we’re all still Awake laughing together. And that air was always present with us, As we exhausted our youth into the small Corner of that house. I can smell my past, As if you are still here with us. And some say that I’d best forget it, Lest it drag me back there. But those people don’t understand that without These reflections, how would I be able to recognize Who I am today. I can smell my past, and it's all that I can ask for.