The Sense Of Smell

By Whitney Albright

In a sense, it’s not the heart or the mind
That triggers memories so deeply confined
They only play a common role
In those mad moments that flood the soul
Vision and hearing have their tales
But I think the detonation’s due to…smell
That’s what I said, yet you probably oppose
That most of our memories come from the nose
The reason I hold this strong conclusion
Is because my smell brought on so many illusions
Walking outside, I encountered a breath of fresh air
And memories exploded, memories flared;
On the mountains on a day so breezy
On the beach with the tide uneasy
Opening a window during a clashing storm
Sitting by the fire in hopes to get warm
A doe swimming across the river brim
A prickly pine come falling from a limb
Playing in raked leaves in mid fall
Gathering a horse back into his stall
Drip drying in the summer wind
Chasing lightning bugs with my friend
Looking at the stars, oh what bliss
A little boy and a first kiss
Going to a baseball game in night fog
How the rocks roll during a jog
Knowing grass has just been mowed
Making an angel in the snow
A vision of a tire swing under a maple
A candle lit Christmas dinner table
Watching flowers sway on tops of hills
Remembering how God’s love feels
Volcanic memories explode and then again swell
Memories are pure madness when encountering a smell

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