A poem about the little moments, the sparks of memories, that somehow always stay behind.
They’re the sentiments of the past, the joyous memories, the happy pheromones.
The days that appear gold in radiance, whose memory shines with a certain spark.
It is also the breeze that blows,
ruffling the strands from the prim knot.
The fragrance that filters across the air, and the blossoms that picturesque the void.
It is the smile that lights the face,
the laughter that rings across.
The eye that crinkles in Euphoria, the quiver of a cheerful face.
It is the flame that flickers,
with a warmth that is sometimes mundane.
The meal that fills the stomach and the drink that leaves a tang.
It is what we feel the most, what we embrace with love.
Those small flickers of our happy memories, those vines that engrave our mind.
hma 