Linen,the smell of fresh crisp clean white linen.
You can not capture the smell of linen in a bottle though
When I think of linen,with a bitter sweet sigh,
I think of my childhood memories of good times gone by.
Napkins and candles and tablecloths,white with white design,
Ready for Sunday dinner with aunts and uncles and cousins
and grandparents so fine.
Pot roast,and chicken,mashed potatoes and strawberry Rhubarb
Linen fresh clean memories,happy times gone by.
Life was livable and children were sweet and quiet and shy.
Streets filled with bicycles and roller skates, marbles and
jacks and kites in the sky.
Air filled with sounds of horns and whistles,a baseball cracking
off the tip of a bat.
The shouts of children with laughter and glee, wonderment of all
Running after the ice cream truck with a ringing bell,
Cones and Eskimo pies,and pop cycles as well.
Little girls secrets from boys they’ll never tell.
Linen,crisp linen,good memories,and oh such a fresh smell.
The front yards had white picket fences and trellises with
climbing Tea Roses,
Bachelor Buttons, Daisies and Hollyhocks, sweet aromas filled
Pansies and Tulips, hear the soft sounds of humming bees.
The back yards had bird houses posted to Willow, Oak,and Maple
Robins and Blue birds on branches hidden amongst the leaves.
And always clothes lines and clothes pins gripping white linen
sheets waving in the breeze.
Crisp white clean linens against the blue sky.
So many memories of good times gone by.