It sometimes takes but a
To stir one's memory;
The perfume of a red, red rose,
A birdsong in a tree,
The tiny hands of a newborn babe,
Children calling at play;
The discomfort of a heatwave,
The chill of a winter's day.
The aroma of hot, spicy
An old man sitting in a chair;
The smell of gum leaves burning
Whilst blue haze pervades the air.
Church bells ringing at evensong,
Calling the faithful to pray within;
A brass band playing in a park,
The plaintive notes of an old violin.
The strident ring of the
A loud rap, rap on the door,
Seagulls screeching overhead,
Wild waves crashing on the shore.
One must take care when creating memories
To be practical, honest and kind;
For it sometimes takes but a simple thing
To destroy one's peace of mind.