Whiff Of The Past


A smell.

Familiar, beckoning.
A whiff of a memory, a whiff of the past,
Of things long forgotten, of things you once had.

A scent.

Taunting, teasing.
It leans in close, until you can almost remember.
But then it skips away, almost connected threads.
Again.
Severed.

A memory.

Broken, shattered.
The scent but teases, almost makes you remember.
Of events long since past, of the good times you once had.

A dream.

That is all that it is.
It cannot be recaptured,
No matter how hard you try.
It cannot.

Be.

Remembered.