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Think of the scent of Cinnamon
Close your eyes and be transported
Back in time…
Your Mom with a trace
Of flour on her face
Sprinkles of tiny wrinkles that resemble
Those… now on mine
Think of the scent of fresh brewed coffee
Think of the chipped cup
In your mom’s chapped hands…
The sizzle of bacon
That has gently taken
You back to the those long lost lands
Allow no word to be spoken
Lest the spell be broken
This transport cross
The fabric of time
Just relax and enjoy it
Allow the mind to employ it
That mysterious mechanism…
That time refracting prism…
That time travel machine
…That resides in your mind…
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem