Scent Of My…. Poem by Dan Reynolds
Scent Of My….
Scent of my….
The road mender's brazier on a warm summer's day
When the smell of tar was melting from the pavement anyway
The earthy sweaty hairy stench, from Scooby's saddle and tack
Not too obviously a reason, why I'd want my sense of smell back
The Sunday roast, or just French toast, or a Chilean Chardonnay
The new mown grass, the barbecue gas, these things I missed today.
The taste is less appealing from my Chinese sizzling platter
The aroma bomb when they lift off the dish, to me it doesn't matter.
So why do I bother to bring it up? Why even give it house room?
These things I miss are nothing, But I miss my wife's perfume.
Excellent build up to that final line. That build-up quadrupled the poignancy of that simple devastating sentence. And with that final sentence, every word you wrote previously that seemed so warm and witty and to be chuckled over in agreement now became inordinately important and tinged with sadness. You have your reader in the palm of your hand with those final 6 words. 10++++++++++++++++++++++
Thanks Susan. I was and still am, partially anosmic, due to overuse of a well known nasal decongestant. Aromas and memories are such a trigger for each other, and awaken long forgotten emotions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 2:35:44 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Loving the big build up to the punch line it works great...we take for granted our sences...nicely done Annette
Thanks Annette. I have regained some of smell now, but that Vicks Sinex has much o answer for.