It's Still Life

Inside a Loop

This day’s made of bits of us.
My eyes have seen too much —
but bless the child’s eyes
that give life to words.

My grandmother doused herself
in lavender. A groping scent
that still closes in on me like
her heavy-breasted embrace.

The air flashed of frost and
snow this morning, chimney
smoke wingless in the air.
The gate is frozen shut again.

Back in the day: it all seems
much the same as today, to me.

Day 30 prompt: write a “back in the day” poem.