8/14 – Poem

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There are winds that blow
Through lush corridors of gardens
That smell of old yesterdays
Battle fields, cook outs , hide and seek spots
And then the Silence after the intrusion of a prop plane and abandoned car alarm
Some soft moments
Or pillows in the sky take us somewhere
Somewhere we’ve been before
In our minds, our energy signatures
And the salty spray of a dawn evening
With the sensation it brings you
An understanding you felt
Is every bit of the potion to the paradox
That we are old, young and aging
Decaying
Racing towards the next something
Yearning sometimes
To know what it is
Become what we are
Live in the meaning
And those scents that poke the back of your neck and remind you of a place you once sat or an old lovers neck
Those messages in a bottle
Serve as an understanding
Of the ephemeral body
And memory
The present
And our choices
The bridges we cross
Those smells
The ones we burn
Those smells
And the ones we orbit for a time
And a time again
Long enough to smell something
Something familiar
Longing
Lasting
Imprinted
To be recalled on
When a creaking door leads you in
And the dust of an old book gives way to that ink and paper bound smell

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