i hear the crunch of mundane mornings below my feet
it is not autumn but a distant memory
of hollow mouths that stretched, i remember so vividly
smiles quenching at the thought of breakfast
mother emptying leftovers, platters over sink
hands resting side by side
feet stomping away for what awaits
corners lingered by a familiar scent
of abandoned tobacco packets
and floral ascending from crevices
of cracked windows
distinguishable sidewalks and undersized shops,
i remember finding my way into
the sugar cones and plastic cups,

a perfect picture that forever
resides inside my heart,

i remember them so vividly

(n.j.)