Written 9/16/20 at 10:23am
I adored the chill of the cool, crisp air
As it lightly wafted through my reddish-brown hair.
Aromatic pumpkin spice and warm pudding bowls of white rice.
Fresh ground coffee beans sting my nostrils.
A toasty kitchen, by means of a heated oven.
I remember
The revered women of my family bustling around
As if running a secret coven.
Ingredients littered the countertops.
It was heavenly to me.
Where my memories wildly roam free,
And sometimes get the best of me.
Lost...
The apple trees outside of the window,
Inspire the reminiscent crescendos of
My name being called.
Hues of orange, brown, and yellow
Could mellow even the rudest stranger fellow.
Passersby migrate through Virginia heading South
In preparation for winter.
They enter and leave, following
The tempered breeze to the tropics,
Relocating just before the freeze!
However, people like me stick around,
Just to enjoy the optics of the
Freshest first fallen snow.
It's a go for the child-at-hearts.
The smart folks who realize that
Money spent is worth lots less
Than the memory art that
Experience creates.
YOU ARE READING
Survivor's Remorse
PoetrySurvivor's Remorse is a personal collection of poetry, songs, lyrics, prose, and more that ranges from the early 2000s through 2023 when I finally decided to start a new poetry book! Thank you immensely to anyone who has taken time to read this book...
