Sometimes I lie on that rug
Or in green grass
And inhale,
Inhale back to childhood days;
Some deep remembered scent
also  found
at the bottom of a sand bucket
Or in a cup of sweet tea on a cold autumn afternoon, outside.
At this time of year
I find myself being carried
By saudade
To nutcrackers and coloured lights
And the scent of cello tape and fresh paint.
Every tear wept happily
With memories of you.