Scent of an Absent Home

A house that no longer exists still scents the air,
it breathes through time’s cracks, discreet and tenacious.
wood that recalls nails and steps never spoken,
cold bread and faded spices from a distant kitchen.
Every crack is a window open to the past,
the light travels like smoke that will not depart.
The scent walks through the voids, returns to us, invisible,
and we find ourselves there, in the echo of a greeting.