Voices

For some, it’s a fragrance, or the scent of burning leaves

I’ve heard it said the olfactory gland is the most powerful

When it comes to evoking memories of times past

And that the whiff of vanilla or sandalwood or gardenias—

Any trace aroma that bears significance for one

Can summons reminiscences unbidden to the fore

But for me, one who has for some reason, lost that edge

That keenly honed sense of smell – I find it’s voices

That send me reeling; sometimes it will be an overheard

Basso profundo somewhere on a bus, and I will swing

Around trying to spot the speaker, certain I know them

Just in time to see a gentleman departing the vehicle—

Plainly someone I don’t recognize but by then, I am

Awash in memories of whose voice I thought I heard

Film will be unspooling in my head of an old friend

Or foe – they’re not always happy memories, of course

And I’ll be right back in the moment—all from hearing

A voice; other times, I’ll think I hear a whisper in a darkened

Theatre, and strain to hear it again—sometimes, I do!

Then, I try to locate that speaker, but naturally, I never

Can and must settle for dealing with the memories

That accompany the whispered voice—who it reminded

Me of—it’s not quite the same as having voices in my head

At least I don’t think it is, but sometimes I wonder.

S.E.Ingraham©