Mother’s scent smells, oh so divine!
Smells of power, beauty and confidence; intertwined.
She buys only the expensive fragrances,
Her bedroom aroma lingers with her favourites.
My nose twitches as she walks through the door,
While my memory hungers for more.
Her perfume pulls me closer to her;
Watch me buy her fragrance as a souvenir.
My idol, my teacher, my biggest supporter, my mother.
As I shadow every move she makes, every step she takes.
Feel her warmth and smell her scent in every embrace.
Singing a melody of the woman my mother will forever be.
I may be older and wiser in this lifetime;
I’ll always wish for that mother of mine.
No matter how far away she may be,
Her fragrance will forever follow me.
This poem was published in the 6th Issue of PoeticAfrica magazine.
Please click here to download.
Read – My Idol – Nakut Janet (Kenya)
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