The Taste


I come back
to the little ******* a swing
listened to her world
as if whole life
was not mine
the tastes of childhood
the smell of mince pie
jasmine tea happy barking of the dog
mingle in the teaspoon of sugar
we swim with father
immersed in poetry and the sound of crickets
time has stopped
the river exceeds lazy everyday life
it accepts everything
takes the memory of things