Interlude

So, my poetry class has us writing a poem a week, which is awesome. This is this weeks poem which I hope you enjoy. If you have any comments before tomorrow afternoon, that'd be awesome. If you have comments later on, that'd be awesome too. See? I'm easy to please.

Interlude             

The engine stills & begins

to cool. I chuck the keys in

my coat pocket & slip out

the door into the thin gap

between cars, careful no scratch

is left behind. Slate sky silent

above me, I smell potpourri,

as if a bonfire of dry flowers

smoldered in the backyard.

I remember grazing on vials of orange

& lemon oil in a fragrance store

with a girl, when I was younger,

not yet wrapped with dried memories

attached to the perfumes & the music.

Outside, it was winter also;

we hurried to the car & missed

the crisp air around us, the remnants

of melting ice & of innocence.

I adjust the scarf bound

around my neck, & listen

to the grandmother scuffing down

the narrow street, crunched leaves

beneath our steps. A short space

links the car and home;

it is a ritual walk & I reach

the welcome mat in moments,

cold hands digging

for the keys, still breathing in

the strange smell, like crushed

jasmines, lavender, & mint.

Passing the days inside,

I forget the sounds & scents,

growing like vines against my gate.

I forget that I live here, beside

the empty January

rose bushes & bare cedars.