THE SCENT OF WHO YOU WERE: a journey down Jasmine Lane

First, prepare your nostrils joyfully.

Whisper to them about their imminent journey, as though explaining the wonder of a walk through an enchanted rose garden to a small, inquisitive child. Feel the tip of your nose twitch with excitement as tiny nasal tendrils flutter in your breathy breeze, ready to interpret the floral hush.

Lean into the olfactory delight; feel the excitement build, let the ceremonial begin.

Wander slowly down Jasmine Lane, eyes soft, senses bliss-aligned.

See sepia memories swim into focus as the heady scent calls to them, one golden summer at a time.

Stop. Listen.

Hear the metronomic tick-tick of a garden sprinkler,

The squeals of biscuit-skinned children in swimsuits defying the swinging spurt.

Smile at the gasp of the white lace petticoat in the evening breeze,

At the Supertramp melody floating from the upstairs window,

At the dusty scent of your mother’s Rive Gauche,

And at the powdery perfection of your grandmother’s cheek

As she admires the sweeping green valley before her.

Follow each molecule back to who you once were,

Before the noise,

Before the rush,

Before you forgot

The simplicity of a single breath.

Pause.

You are here.

Jasmine Lane has been expecting you.

Have you discovered my new poetry book , Illicit Croissants At Dawn?