It is not the loud screaming roar nor the overt display
Which in the end leaves on us indelible it's mark
But rather the tiny voice scarce heard which whispers
Words we did not wish to hear
Oh we deny it of course but there it is
The simple sight will touch us,
A kitten, a child at play, a smile and no more
These are the images that last long past the splash
Of colour and light that assaults our eyes in an obscene mix
The pure tone of a tiny bell or the whisper of a child
Some silly song once heard in our youth
These are the sounds we remember when
The crashing bands have faded away into numbed silence
The touch of two lips brushing momentarily on our cheek
A finger stroke along our jaw or breath on the back of our neck
These are the sensations we remember
Years after we forget the throb of dropping that couch on our foot
Or smashing our shin in the dark
The taste of popcorn or apple pie
Perhaps a slice of pumpkin or bowl of ice cream
A piece of chocolate or fresh baked bread just buttered
These linger longer than the five star meal we spent too much to have
Jasmine or Evening Scented Stocks
Vanilla and nutmeg or cinnamon in the kitchen
These are the fragrances we recall when in our age we long to remember
Long after all those strange exotic scents that once flooded our lives
We think it is the big moments, the flashy moments, the impressive moments
That will be matter in the end
But those are not where the hinges of our lives are fixed
It's the little things that fill us with awe
Small sights and sounds
Tiny touches and tastes
Subtle smells and minor seeming events
These are what we remember in the end