Frost

It's the smell that hits me first

laced in memory, tinged with hope

First frost sounds like bookbags

and the fresh zip of a new pencil case

The rustle and shush of folders against

lunch bags as I hunched my backpack

Now, I pack the lunch and zip the case

and listen as you stamp against the cold

at the bus stop, under the streetlight

as it flickers and stops as the bus arrives

First frost is the sound of new leather

creaking around small feet scuffling and

stamping away the cold and reticence

of a shy child in a new school

For me every year was a new thing

but I've made a home for you

Same-old-same-old, a boredom of stability

that I never had.

But it's always the smell that hits me first

toothpaste and shampoo, pencil shavings

Synasthesia also gives me the smell of cold,

blue-silver sparkles and an acid flavoured

Crunch

The first sound of frost is a crunch.