Tuesday, June 20, 2006



From the crevices
Of my childhood,
Pops out an orange memory.
Filled with many things warm
Sharp
And sickly sweet.
Some old smell
Burns your nostril
And this once
Sitting on a grown up chair,
I sigh,
And thank god,
That the uncontrollable horror
Called childhood
Has been left behind.

3 comments:

Ananya said...

orange memory...

bah!

mizfit said...

"poing"??? sorry thats the only sound that popped in my head! :(

Solan said...

:)