PONDERINGS
by Marie Elena

Smacks of death, say some.
But I smell Mom’s pies. Hear Dad’s
marching band pre-games.
Feel crisp air against
my sometimes still-a-bit-tanned-
from-summertime skin.
Marvel at the sky’s
puffy white and charcoal clouds
in deep blue setting.
Relish the jewel-tones
gradually gracing trees,
begging wonderment.
Enjoy leaves crunching
beneath the tires of my bike,
or cute-boot-dressed feet.
Experience leaves
raked in a pile over my
head, then jumping in.
Savor the taste of
a hardy stew with biscuits,
or bowl of chili.
Memories bring smiles,
like the Robbins Avenue
Pizza (a rare treat),
enjoyed on our porch
after walking home from a
nighttime football game.
Smacks of death, say some.
But my senses are filled with
what I’ve fallen for.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
Confidential to my friend Mr. dick. “Maybe it’s time to clean out the attic?”
HA!!
Marie, this is one of your “Goodest” poems. The last line is just perfect and clever and made me smile.
I can relate to the marching band reference. At this time of year especially, the long held memories come wafting downward from the storage attic of my mind, to recall my mid-70s marching band uniform’s musty aroma from the sweat of wearers of prior years graduates.
I really like your poem.
P.S. “… wafting downward from the storage attic of my mind”? Oh, that’s just awful. Ha!
HAHAHAHA! Oh my! 😉
P.S. See Kevin Puffer’s reply. 😀