Hi, hiveans, and thanks for stopping by.

A smell is a powerful thing. It makes us remember what we might have thought forgotten, and even when some pieces are missing, the feelings are there forever.

Vase with Red Gladioli by Vincent van Gogh (18865)

Gladioli

Sometimes it happens
a smell brings it back.
It colors the air
with hues of the past,
and her eyes
try to find
the sounds that are right
to go with the pictures
invisible to the beholders.
Her words,
tinted with loss
of the present
start humming and pronouncing.
Thanks, she says;
they are beautiful, she says.
And the young man with the flowers
still has that face.
Hmm… that smell…
The flowery colors match her dress,
and the gentleness of a young hand
warms hers.
Thanks, she remembers,
and she takes the gladiolas;
they are beautiful.
She finds the sounds,
and they play;
they come from a box
sealed in her head,
the manly loving voice
and this hand;
                          this hand drawing wrinkles
                          in intact gentleness
                          warms hers;
                                                    and she looks at him
                                                    and finds love again
                                                    in this old smiling face.

Royalty free picture from Pixabay

Thanks for reading poems.