The scent of sage hanging on the air

And the wood polish for pews worn to a shiny sheen

Project me to every place

Every church

Of childhood and the world

With a simple deep breath –

Or the schoolroom perfume

Of industrial paint and old textbooks

Time travel to first days and butterflies

And the careful study of the floor surrounding my shoes –

Jolting forward to the sandalwood of college

But for that quiet corner of the library

On the eighth floor

Where the entire ocean belonged to my eyes

And my most faithful friends

Waited for me within their pages –

A walk past perfume counters

Takes me to lecture halls

And seating charts

And people I knew only halfway –

Every breath is an act of memory

Shuttling me forward and back

Disowned and then reclaimed

Denied or accepted –

Every moment held

Upon pages and paper

And the smell of ink from the pen or the printer

Waiting to draw me in ~ Caroline A. Slee