Sounds and scents take me back to long ago distant places that seem here and now, tugging my heart, whispering in my ear, “Come back!”
The pools in my eyes attest to the futility of the idea that it could ever be re-lived. Even my mind knows the truth: that my memory lies by omission.
Sounds and Scents © December 7, 2017 | Annie Zalezsak
Seabank Studio, silent and serene
Bathing in big moonlight every night I dream
Penarth Pier, pizza, puppies, people
lonely seashore, tidy tides tidalling.
Walking, wandering, welcoming who?
No one, no where, by myself, too.
Lonely, legacy, sea air keeps us healthy
Peaceful and noisy, impoverished and wealthy.
Atop a tower, tides rushing gently
Trapped in tiny trendy, gone half-mentally.
Yearning, churning, burning
all the while, learning;
Ready, steady,
left and now I’m mourning.
I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate you more, Seabank Studio. I picked at all your faults. The thin walls (I could hear the neighbour pee). The hymn-singing piano lady below (that was nice, actually). But the brash, brass (out-of-tune) band on Sundays, oh, I hated you! And I cursed the perfumed breezes that gave me headaches.
But laying down at night, to the sound of the tides, the moon’s gentle light filled my spirit (I always kept the blinds fully open at night to let her in).
A stupid grievance with the maintenance man was the last straw; I had such little patience then.
Every place has it’s good and not so good.
This place was a jewel and its imperfections, a decade later, seem insignificant. I wish I had explored it more.
Seabank Studio © December 7, 2017 | Annie Zalezsak
Annie Zed 