Shivering, chilly drops of pool water running down
our backs, between our legs, dripping from noses,
calloused towels bundled around our frozen limbs,
flip-flops slapping arrhythmic beats across grey concrete,
we’d slide onto the grey leather Buick seats
pushing the pea before us, being pushed by the next.
Teeth chattering, snoots sniffling, arms embracing self.

Back home we’d peel the bathing suits from blue skin,
depositing wet elastic togs on the nippy, smooth white-tiled floor,
sliding bodies into a hot sudsy bath. Toes tingling.  Fingers corrugating.
Then into fleecy fluffy fabric-softened-scented towels twice our size
followed by amiable fuzzy flannel pyjamas.
We’d shuffle our slippered feel into the benevolent kitchen
for hot buttered toast upon which sat a sprinkling of cinnamon sugar.

To this very day, the scent and flavour of cinnamon
enfolds me in love and warms me inside and out.

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Writing 201: Poetry
Assignment — Day 8:

Prompt: FLAVOUR
Form: Elegy
Device: Enumerato

The elegy can trace its history all the way to ancient Greece. It started out as a poem that could be about almost any topic, as long as it was written in elegiac couplets (pairs of verse, with the first one slightly longer than the second). Over the centuries, though, it became something a bit more specific: a first-person poem on themes of longing, loss, and mourning. A moment, a place, a person, a feeling — your elegy can be about anything, as long as it evokes a thing that’s irretrievably gone.

As its name might suggest, enumerato basically means constructing a list, a successive enumeration of multiple elements in the same series.

The scent of cinnamon sends me to my grandparents’ home.  And the taste deposits me at their kitchen table where I spent some of my happiest childhood moments.
I don’t think I caught the meter of the elegy in this piece.  And the enumerato went by the wayside.  But I faced a lot of memories in the writing.  Miss you, Gramma and Grampa!

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