I’ve forgotten the scent of packed dirt on an easy picnic, of your mother’s laundry room clinging to her fresh linens.
I’ve forgotten the taste of rushed sandwiches from a wicker basket.
I’ve forgotten Sunday mornings,
But I haven’t forgotten you.

YOU ARE READING
Aesthetics
PoésieI felt it was time for a new beginning, so I've restarted my collection of poems. Feedback is encouraged.
Forgotten
I’ve forgotten the scent of packed dirt on an easy picnic, of your mother’s laundry room clinging to her fresh linens.
I’ve forgotten the taste of rushed sandwiches from a wicker basket.
I’ve forgotten Sunday mornings,
But I haven’t forgotten you.