You used to say I smelled like sunshine
When I came in from the water or the yard
in the summer.
You would wrap me in your arms and clean me up
and say how the sun’s rays had tangled themselves up in my hair.
I would go sniffing for the sun but I never smelled it on myself.
I would catch a scent here and there, clinging to the dog or
Left on a pillow in the windowsill.
But I couldn’t ever really put my finger on it.
I like to imagine I was your sun, that to get the real smell
You needed me in the mix.
When I think of you now I think of sunshine
And my mind reaches for the memory of that smell.
But without you in it, I can’t ever quite recall the fragrance.