Fresh cut grass

I love the scent of fresh cut grass
mingled with petroleum
it takes me back -
back to my childhood
Days filled with summer
Pushing pedals on that
too-high bicycle around and around
down lonely streets -
like there were no such thing as strangers
Everything was so simple
::
I love the scent of fresh cut grass
I breathe it in
and think of sweet oranges
hanging on the tree
ready to be picked,
the dust rolling over
the dry, Victorian plain,
melting icypoles,
and feeding carrots to that horse
::
I love the scent of fresh cut grass
mingled with petroleum –
::
At the sound of a small cry
I snap out of my reverie
I stare at the strange, goggled faces
they stare back
they have stopped their whipper snippers
waiting for me to pass
::
I pass in silence
interrupted only by the dying whirr of whipper snippers
overwhelmed by the scent of fresh cut grass
mingled with petroleum
::
I stare back at the one who let out that small cry
::
I guess that horse is dead now
I am here
That was there
My childhood was then
I am now -
and there was and is everything in between
::
I smile
He smiles back
The scent of fresh cut grass smells better now than it ever did on a thousand yesterdays
I am complete
::
I love the scent of fresh cut grass