it was quiet and I sat on those stairs
the skies were light, watery blue
and I could smell the earth
pushing past the winter’s reach.
there were the glasses
in my hands, and then he was there
sitting down beside me and taking those rose
lenses, perched them on that weathered face
and he laughed. I laughed and again
I was a child. He was there
I was there. and those glasses perched back
on my tiny nose, inhaling fresh spring
and I looked through and saw the world in pink.
there grew a bond.
child and adult
seeing the world in pink.
I was prompted to write of a memory of a smell. I wanted a lovely memory so I settled on this one. I was quite young and awkward, maybe three or four. Can’t say I’ve changed that much!