THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.

It was in my sundry yesteryears,

That I'd often catch a dainty whiff,

Of my mother's perfume.

So divinely worn,

It would create a brilliant nimbus around her.

However, as flew time, so did it's scent,

Weakening steadily as it got caught,

In faraway nooks and elusive crannies,

Until it was nothing but a distant, bittersweet memory,

Standing on the bourne of being forgotten.

But, as I was walking down the street today,

In my usual monotony,

It was briefly, only in passing,

That I'd smelled it's heady scent.

Yet everything around me morphed into a murky, reminiscent spectacle of my past.

Old, sweet, bitter memories,

Quickly resurfacing,

Some better buried, some maudlin,

Some wistful, some hopeful.

Of people who'd died, of people who'd lived,

All a reminder of what would never come again.

And then, it was gone all too quickly,

Prompting me to resume my monotonous journey.