In a sense, it’s not the heart or the mind br That triggers memories so deeply confined br They only play a common role br In those mad moments that flood the soul br Vision and hearing have their tales br But I think the detonation’s due to…smell br That’s what I said, yet you probably oppose br That most of our memories come from the nose br The reason I hold this strong conclusion br Is because my smell brought on so many illusions br Walking outside, I encountered a breath of fresh air br And memories exploded, memories flared; br On the mountains on a day so breezy br On the beach with the tide uneasy br Opening a window during a clashing storm br Sitting by the fire in hopes to get warm br A doe swimming across the river brim br A prickly pine come falling from a limb br Playing in raked leaves in mid fall br Gathering a horse back into his stall br Drip drying in the summer wind br Chasing lightning bugs with my friend br Looking at the stars, oh what bliss br A little boy and a first kiss br Going to a baseball game in night fog br How the rocks roll during a jog br Knowing grass has just been mowed br Making an angel in the snow br A vision of a tire swing under a maple br A candle lit Christmas dinner table br Watching flowers sway on tops of hills br Remembering how God's love feels br Volcanic memories explode and then again swell br Memories are pure madness when encountering a smellbr br Whitney Albrightbr br