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Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Memory Sense




My father should have smelled like ink or paper
from devouring every book in reach
Often chosen by size rather than subject

I imagine him once again perched at the kitchen table
coffee and cigarette side by side
in triumphant if futile denial

If it was summer 
a finch tap tapped at the window
Only they two knew the secret code

Melanie Brown
Inspired by Bentlily's prompt to write about how my father smelled

6 comments:

  1. You've painted a very sensitive portrait of your father with this wonderful poem. It's both visual and aromatic. More importantly, I feel him dreaming in the silence of this image.

    Samantha Reynolds touches countless people every day with her poems. It so nice to see the power of poetry manifest itself. Great work Melanie!

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    1. Thank you Richard. It was such a good idea to focus on one or two small things. Otherwise how do you ever put words to a person in all their complexities?

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  2. Love, love, love. The "secret code" at the end broke my heart. xo

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    1. Thank you. So kind of you to respond Samantha. You have an impact on so many people every day with your magnificent writing.

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