Old School Lover!

Memories are not feelings,

memories are a mix of everything.

The taste on the tip of tongue,

the smell that still lingers in the nostril,

the images that play when eyes are shut,

brings the flashes of times come to stand still.

Memories are homes, 

that I have been living for days.

Memories are scales,

I have worn and left in bays.

It is not just people, places, or moments

that I miss.

I miss the smell of my mother's saree,

the smell of my brother's cheeks.

I miss the smell of my father's pen's ink,

the smell of my garden when flowers bloom.

I miss the spicy smell of that lane,

when I was riding back from classes to home.

I miss the smell of hair oil,

when I used to lean on my best friend's shoulder.

I miss the smell of sweaters of my friends

which we wore in the Christmas and during the new years

I miss the smell of coffee plants,

when we visited the estate.

I miss the smell of chalk powder,

which rested on the corners of my cousin’s slate.

I miss the smell of fresh water and trees,

of the places, we went on picnics.

I miss the smell of my grandma's elbow,

where I used to rest my head and sleep.

I miss the smell of sweets,

which I was fed by my grandfather.

It sounds so lame but hey!

I am an old school lover.