Our Story

My latest poem, read with scented candles šŸ™‚

Conceited Crusade

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I read our story in a book yesterday,

found it in an old bookstore,

that smelled,

like your feet ā€“ not the book itself,

but the store. The bookĀ smelled of vanilla,

an odd mustiness, that only comes with age

andĀ marination ā€“ like

the seashell you found

that day we sailed

away,

held it to your ear,

and heard such secrets,

old words,

glue, paper, ink, fibers,

the smells unravel,

long walks with theĀ dog, days sick in bed,

the flowers we planted, the cookies and tea.

This bookĀ read like the Bible, right before judgement falls,

the pages rolled back,

Ā like theĀ sun

acrossĀ our wooden deck,

battered and worn,

markedĀ up countingĀ kids,

chasing butterflies,

catching frogs.

It ends like the

the beginning,

adrift on the waves,

rocked back and forth

we managed to sleep.

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