Cinnamon

Burnished talc, I'd mistake it for cocoa if not for its scent,
tell-tale and irresistible

Pied Piper, spice-song filling the air, in anticipation they follow invisible tether, a chorus of "Mmmm, that smells good!",
their love-song back

Redolent intoxication, breathing in present, exhaling the past

The taste of Mama's love, the feel of home

A portkey to childhood, stirring memories spicy but sweet. 

Shyly, I'm joining my brilliant writer-friend, Amber, as she invites others to join her in "using the concrete to speak of the abstract."  This week's prompt is "cinnamon."

Years ago, in one of those streaks when I fancied myself a poet, I invented a poetic form:  a Pensieve (brief explanation below but this explains more).  I haven't written much poetry lately, save the occasional haiku, but I still love the premise of a Pensieve.  It's challenging (at least for me) to attach all the senses to a subject, but by the time you finish, you've looked at something through a myriad of lenses, and maybe for the first time, have seen a different point of view or a more complete picture (when you didn't even realize one was lacking).

I was planning to write about the cinnamon ornaments my children made when they were littles, but I haven't yet found them as I sift through the mess my babies made when they "helped" me last year by putting away all of our Christmas stuff. I needed to see the ornaments again for inspiration….

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What is a Pensieve poem?  A titled, five-line poem; each line correlates to one of the five senses–sight, sound, scent, taste, touch–and describes the subject (title).  The goal is for the reader to take on the poem as his own, being able to "experience" your subject through your words, by seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting and feeling what you described.