How can a tiny room become a time machine?
I was enveloped, no struck, by recollection.
Immediately pitched back decades, to
a place that I loved. Feeling memories I love.
It was the smell foremost. As evocative as a voice.
Whispering from the past. On this visit to my parents abode.
Today of all days. Christmas Eve.
Always a night for a feast,
In that home, which wafts from this tiny ornament.
Presumably, it was given as a gift. Relocated from a kitchen.
Heart of the home.
A place of spice, candles and coffee.
Just a porcelain dog.
Enrobing my mind ferociously with nostalgia
for a person departed, never gone.
Like these remembrances.
© Tom Tide 2016