Mom never smelled like flowers or anything tropical
When you walk in a library a musty, new smell enters your senses
When you walk by the ocean you smell the salty air
She smelled like none of those
We never hugged; only when I was little did I inhale her scent
On stormy nights, alone in my bed, I'd run to my mother, hoping I could find a place in my parent's bed.
As I lay against her, I instantly felt safe and that was all that mattered
In the spring when I put fresh grey flannel sheets on my bed only do i remember her
