Senses

 

By John McGrath

You will remember
the tang of fresh strawberries
Plucked from hidden green folds

You will remember
the call of ring-necked doves
pledging their troth at dawn

you will remember
your first barefoot walk
on the sharp pebbles of summer

You will remember
the slow sunset over hawthorn
a last glimpse of gold

You will not forget
the sweet scent of a lover’s neck
nuzzled.

© 2024 John MacGraft

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