A child
navigating the wild
Alone in the dark
lost in the park
Alone at the table
stuck in a fable
The smell of mothballs
and the stench of halls
A hospital room
and a sense of doom
A sick bed
fills with dread
Those images
Unable to forget
Swirling
Twirling
Tormenting
Unrelenting
Why do they attack
and lurk behind my back?
Smells are one of the strongest conjurers of the memory of emotion.
Jane, your poem brought back memories of my life as a child in the infirmary at the orphanage. And also being alone most of the time. I still remember what the room looks like and I can still smell at times the air in those rooms.