Scents of childhood return; br Retreated ignored to hidden spaces br Winter is a dusty attic; yet in br Summer thoughts come out to play br br Smells so vivid, arresting br Cut grass, staining so stubborn br Throwing off clothes encumbrant br To lie, face down, in the green br br Sights to unfurl the heart br Honeysuckle pinkly glowing br Intoxicating iridescent flies br To watch, to dream, take flight br br Water with magnetic attraction br River's forbidden, dangerous allure br Caress my fingers, lap at my toes br To tingle, to entwine, with icy foam br br Stealthy plucking of stolen herbs br Youthful exploratory palate br Bitter sorrel, warm sage, fennel chewed br To taste, to experience, all is new br br Mind excludes all external sounds br The background clamour drowned out br My humming company of voices br To listen, to question, noise unceasing br br My young senses are all still here: br Tuned, acknowledged and vital br Constantly quickening because br If forgotten, summer's over, dead.