Friday, 1 June 2012

Sensory Idyll

Scents of childhood return;
Retreated ignored to hidden spaces
Winter is a dusty attic; yet in
Summer thoughts come out to play

Smells so vivid, arresting
Cut grass, staining so stubborn
Throwing off clothes encumbrant
To lie, face down, in the green

Sights to unfurl the heart
Honeysuckle pinkly glowing
Intoxicating iridescent flies
To watch, to dream, take flight

Water with magnetic attraction
River's forbidden, dangerous allure
Caress my fingers, lap at my toes
To tingle, to entwine, with icy foam

Stealthy plucking of stolen herbs
Youthful exploratory palate
Bitter sorrel, warm sage, fennel chewed
To taste, to experience, all is new

Mind excludes all external sounds
The background clamour drowned out
My humming company of voices
To listen, to question, noise unceasing

My young senses are all still here:
Tuned, acknowledged and vital
Constantly quickening because
If forgotten, summer's over, dead. 

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