They say smell is the most evocative sense,
it dredges up long forgotten memories
and brings them to the fore, intense.
Perfume that wisps by on a passing breeze,
the musky salt of a fishing harbour,
the lush green grass freshly mown,
the warm spice scent of father back from the barber
lightly dusted with cologne.
A fully lived present can be yanked away
by a sniff that conjures up your past,
consciousness recalled of a lost day
it appears unbidden, unasked.
These conjurations may bring distress,
reopen wounds, and niggle old scars
but this is part of the healing process;
these bruises are ours.