Vanilla's Magic

"VANILLA’S MAGIC I first heard Vanilla’s voice when I was just a tyke. “Come, come,” she said to me. “Smell, and you will like.” Grasping, then, the dark brown glass, I twisted off the cap. Down, down I dropped my nose, while memory split a gap. Instantly, I clearly see the table, bowl, and oats. “Eat, eat,” my father says. “Then run and get your coat.” I dig my spoon into the meal and shove it in my mouth. “Smell, smell,” Vanilla says, “Forget your mother’s shouts.” “For deep, warm, and kinda sweet, I love to play with grains, Of sugar, milk, and raisins too, which takes away the pain.” I then hear black Dena’s bark, t’was yanked back to my room. “Starve, starve,” my mother cries. “For you must live my gloom.” Once again Vanilla spoke, when I was just age ten. “Come, come,” she sang to me. “Want to soar again?” Grasping then the dark brown glass, I twisted off the cap. Down, down I dropped my nose, while memory split a gap. Instantly, I clearly see the table, bowl, and oats. “Eat eat,” my father says. “Then run and get your coat.” I still hear Vanilla’s voice, though fifty years have passed. For every day I smell her scent, so my nose she tags. Always, then I clearly see the table, bowl and oats. “Eat, eat,” my father says. “Then run and get your coat.” by Hannah Rain