Bereavement

I've preserved your smell

Deep down my senses:

Rusted nails hammered 

Straight on an old wall.

And your presence

Is the sweet fragrance

Of the winter flowers,

That bear your remembrance

From the winters

Of the yester-years.

When you dosed on

Sitting in your cot

Watching your favourite

Evening T.V. show.

And every time when 

The door of your room

Opened outside,

Ushering the fragrance in.

You woke up

Looking outside

Wearing a smile thin.

The door still brings

Fresh flower perfumes

Your room is empty

Ever since you left

Walking out through the door.

I've held in my eyes

Your face serene

Shrunken in weakness

Dried up before age

With asthmatic breathing

Air entering mouth

Never leaving out in whole;

The fragrance was irritating

Annoyance for your soul.

I never enjoyed

The sweet smelling flowers

In completion.

Left the task on rest

For the season next,

The winter to come.

Never knew the winter this year

Will be dumb

With your absence felt

And memories 

Spread around

Like songs

Silently hummed...