by Mandy Gibson
the first scent came in a crowd,
slipped past in a street crossing,
dragging away with a parent's cautious hand,
spoke of far away.
the second scent, when it came
was dark and brooding, coffee and cigarettes,
weary eyes changing colour
in a new pair of glasses, waiting.
the third in an autumn sunshower,
tiny needles of icy water spinning onto skin from light,
all dark clouds and flowers,
warm hands and rainbow.
the final scent flowed and collided in the joy of reunion,
inhaled between sobs,
remembered from forever ago.
and then the first, again.
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