The beautiful countryside of my childhood
emerged vividly in my mind
as I waited for the last train back to the city.
The rolling fields and storm clouds in my memory’s past
Mingled with the scent of my mother’s perfume,
tentatively splashed on my wrist
as I went through her things today.
She should have been with us eternally
But she faded gradually into those clouds
And we are left with bottled memories.
“Cabochard”, I relearned the word,
Reclaiming her perfume’s name,
Restoring the past’s shaky grounds,
Returning to a semblance of newness.
I cried at the train ‘oh please don’t come’
longing only for the darkness to engulf me,
to cradle me deep within its velvet softness.
A low, sustained whistle and flashing lights
were the train’s answer to my plea as it approached.
I could not stand still any longer,
Ready or not, I was moving on.
Collaborative Twitter Poem By @jdubqca @afcoory @MyVogonPoetry @vivchook @Brudberg @Permabloom
Photo courtesy of @Lynsm7