Memory brought about by a smell [Zsuzsa Manna]
I'm sick in bed.
The curtains are drawn,
and the glow of a full sun shines behind
leaving a halo of a healthy world
past my sick room.
The items I possess are stagnant.
Their creator sullied by flu
Their life on pause and stilled.
None of them talk to me this way.
When the door opens and a trail of aroma follows
little things animate;
Cinnamon bear and Toby blink sleepily
and the dollhouse lights come on
And Sarah peers at me through her tiny bedroom window
And she gives me a thumbs up
with her carefully sutured doll-arm.
It's hot tea, sleepytime,
a comforts now and forever as a vast, sighing 'OK'
to finally get some rest.
ANd when I awake, the room will be brighter.
And the colorful trinkets of my life will grin
to see me ready to play again.
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