Rest your nose on the pillowy scent of jasmine, follow it down that latticed corridor to the base of the brushbox tree and the gloaming under-sphere of the cottoneaster bush. On your right, feel gently the sand stone of the creamery wall rough and tawny as laughter. Remember the summer nights gritty concrete on bare toes, as you pattered here from the kitchen’s linoleum dark, warm as sat-on velvet, and into the spray-cool breath of starlight. You pulled at your pyjama pants mussed and dopey to the soft burp of frogs communing in the outside toilet.
Written for Laura’s dVerse Poetics (write about a memory)