Memories are ephemeral mushrooms,
in the cosy warmth of a summer drizzle,
they blossom out, down the valley of your brain pitmounts-
in ethereal fragrance-,
nostalgia of undeciphered past,
sweetness of someone else’s nearness.
But alas, mushrooms are ephemeral beings
they do not persist the day after.
Your brain pitmounts are left dry
with unseen seeds spread around,
dreaming another drizzle afar.