In an open-air flower market,
it happened in an instant,
with one solitary scent,
years unraveled and
I was that kid again.

One AM on a school night,
vague street light through
my window, painting
shadowed crosses on
the wall and ceiling.
Even in the depths of night,
a stifling ninety degrees,
our home no air conditioning.
Slight temperate breeze through
open window conveyed
exotic sweet Camellia perfume,
from two large flowering plants,
standing sentry out there.

Too hot to sleep, turning and tossing
on a sweat-damp sheet,
I'd conjure and dreamed of far away
Pacific isles, of cool sea surf and sandy beach,
palm branches sway in fresh, clean breeze,
robust with the soothing fragrance
of thousands of tropical blooms,
Like those standing guard
outside my window screen.

Heat-induced, half sleep,
Horizon Lust loudly calling me.