The Scent

It was early one Saturday
I was still in bed
A siren and and voices
Took over my head
I threw off the covers
Pushed aside the drape
Looked down from my window
My mouth flew agape
For down on the street
Bathed in light red
Was a stretcher and ambulance
My great grandmother dead
No one moving fast
She had died in her sleep
But I swear as I watched
Her eyes opened a peep
And for the briefest of moments
Her mouth curved in a smile
Fixated my way
We fixed gazes a while
The attendants turned round
She went back to no more
They loaded her in
As I started to roar
“Stop she’ not dead!”
I yelled as I ran
Barefoot down cold stairs
But a boy, not a man
Was coddled and hugged
And not listened to
I shivered and cried

as her perfume wafted across the sidewalk

 

 

 

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