Unexpected Return without Request (Poem)

Fleeting memories

In whispering aromas -

The past

Forcibly contained in the present.

One step,

Two thousand eight -

the colorless world,

The biting cold.

Another step,

Undetermined -

The warmth of his home,

The weekly church visits.

Third step,

Thrown into childhood -

The magical world,

The vivid experiences.

Fourth step,

And here I am again -

In the present,

But with the eyes of a child.

-Zero