I was sorting through old boxes
Boxes meant to be thrown away
When I found a photograph
And suddenly,
The air thickened with the scent of spices
Fiery, salty and alive
The distinct click of her heels echoed
Carrying the rich, familiar scent of her perfume.
A warm island haze surrounded her
Her hair blown out just so by the hairdresser,
Her lips the perfect shade of rose just the way she likes it,
Her cat eye nails sharp and elegant
The scene shifted
The cool air of the mountain brushed my face
As she hoisted me over her shoulders.
I sighed wishing I could go back
I stared down at the photo of us
Climbing up the mountain together
I wish she would come and visit