Childhood

Those smells which hang in the air,
A little whiff and it takes you there.
Feels nice.

When fevers were frightened away
By dad’s hankies drenched in Old Spice
And watered ice.

Coming home to hot turmeric hugs
Channel and mustard oil
Rice and spice.

While the parched earth rose up
to embrace the early monsoon
Memories suffice.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

CAPTCHA ImageChange Image