Straight Back

How can a tiny room become a time machine?

I was enveloped, no struck, by recollection.

Incongruously, violently

Immediately pitched back decades, to

a place that I loved. Feeling memories I love.



It was the smell foremost. As evocative as a voice.

Whispering from the past. On this visit to my parents abode.

Today of all days. Christmas Eve.

Always a night for a feast,

In that home, which wafts from this tiny ornament.

Presumably, it was given as a gift. Relocated from a kitchen.

Heart of the home.

A place of spice, candles and coffee.

Just a porcelain dog.

Enrobing my mind ferociously with nostalgia

for a person departed, never gone.

Like these remembrances.


© Tom Tide 2016


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