Nostalgia

We remember in peculiar ways

With senses rather than with thoughts

A scent on the wind, or a bitter taste

Can remind us of such different days.

Of ice cream cones with lemon slices

Shining red apples, sliced in dishes,

Of home grown berries fresh from the garden

And soup or pies with unknown spices.

Sitting outside in the afternoon sun,

Running through grass from unwanted insects,

Playing guessing games to pass the time,

Peaceful things that still seem fun.

Long summer walks through winding lanes,

Late nights watching mindless programs,

Falling asleep to a soothing tune,

You know so well but cannot name.

Midweek treats and bare brick walls,

Listening just because you can,

A cat so large it waddles out of the door at night,
Gentle hands to pick you up when you fall.

The very last time you heard them laugh,
and the things you can’t remember saying,
the smile you remember even after it’s faded,

And what you wish you could have asked.

We remember in the strangest sense,

Of things that shouldn’t really matter

But that when combined complete our vision of a person

Of everything they were and more than they could ever be.

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- Jayne