Vanilla's Magic
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"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
Copyright © Hannah Rain | Year Posted 2017
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