trigger

in the period
when time
stood still

the old man
grasped
for a memory

a mislaid
memory

somewhere …

in the recesses …

an old mind

he thought

I am
an old mind

full up
with clutter

a workshop
overfilled with boxes
and jars of screws
and nails
and bolts

and tools

and
memories

finally
as he sat
apparently doing nothing
in the chair
that was situated
to allow a view
through the long
kitchen window
out into the garden
he felt it

a sensation

the soft perfume smell
of a rose

the sound of the hammer
descending to strike
the anvil

the yielding
of a bowl of cream
as he ran his finger through it

the knocking hollow
of a loaf of bread
just out of the oven

the …

and suddenly
time started
again

as he
recalled

~

Poem #492 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.