The pungent aroma of apricot, wafts by on the evening breeze,
from somewhere comes the sweet perfume of honeysuckle in bloom.
The stars hang in the summer sky, spreading forth a canopy,
and I am immersed in nostalgic waves of early childhood memories.

I recall the house set high on a terrace, wherein first awareness was born,
and double French doors which unfurled unto my outside world.
Sunlight beams through the panes of glass, made the kitchen bright and warm,
a cheery place I seem to recall to eat golden flakes of breakfast corn.

My outside world had a fence roundabout, arrayed in honeysuckle vines,
where was used as a slide and more an old inclined cellar door.
On summer nights it would become a planetarium fine,
where mother and I beneath heaven's dome would watch celestial jewels shine.

She would delineate constellations, like Scorpio and the Great Bear,
and their myths from days of old to brother and I unfold.
Apricot nectar from next door would drift on the warm night air,
then these happy evenings we would end, each with a little thank you prayer.

Other memories also brought to mind, although I really know not why,
are of mother and a morning that a bird began to sing.
"Oh look there is a bluebird,” I can still hear soft reply,
then I turned around to look outside, but just in time to see it fly.

These earliest memories from childhood, and of the house upon a hill,
memories stirred by deja vu I have tried to share with you.
Deja vu and warm memories readily called forth still,
by sweet apricot and honeysuckle which in the evening dew distill.

But of the early things I still recall, and those forgotten not,
the most poignant are of mother and the hours I spent with her.
Her loving ways and wisdom and the values that she taught,
have also through time remained with me and a successful life helped wrought.