I still remember The smell of those little jasmines Tucked between my mother's long hair Whenever she pulls me in A long, warm embrace.
My father's sweaty shirts Released an odour I avoided once, But now, I reminisce them always Beside the gratitude for his sweat and toil.
My mouth waters so bad When the oh-so-familiar aroma Of spices and love Emanates from the little stove in the kitchen The soothing scent of coconut oil From those graying hairs And the wrinkled hands of my grandma Kneeling the dough with practised perfection.
I wish I could forever remember The orange candies and their tangy scent Which my grandpa extends After a long wait, and his long day at work. Oh! How I'd run to meet him at the doorstep Eager to open his closed fist with my tiny hands!
The smell of petrichor Of the first rains my brother and I Drenched ourselves in Without telling our parents! And how badly we were scolded Tucked under stubborn blankets While tossing and turning in fever afterwards.
I still flinch, recalling The pungency of the cough syrup Pushed down my little throat after hours of force and tugging! The smell of old books recovered from the attic Which I caressed, like my little siblings Maybe with a little more love.