The Memory of 6 Year-Old...

Your scent lingered on my pillow
As we shared it the night before
Consciously I spoke my name in your voice
We kind of sound the same, mom
Even back then
 

Your hair must have been freshly washed
Or was it the smell of White Rain
That you sprayed upon your bee hive doo
 

Although I did not have you with me
You left a part of yourself
That I could bury my nose into
And smell your presence during your absence
As I cried myself to sleep ~ Arachne ~ Penned on 8/30/13 @ 12:50 p.m