So many smallest pleasures
That follow me always-
Always remembered instantly
Back through all my days-
So too many here to write of
But every one I keep in store-
Deep within my memory
Where they remain forever more-
The smell of those wet fallen leaves
As they carpet upon the ground-
That smell of that first rain drop
Upon driest soil to be found-
The sound of rain upon night roof of tin
The silence during that moment of Pre dawn-
When night and day both bid hooray
Before the new day yet is born-
The singing of late night crickets
That searching cry of the midnight owl-
The silence breaking cry of lonesome dingo
As he wonders around within his prowl-
The fragrance of the newly cut hay
And when stacked to dry in rows-
The sound of the late night wind
As through the tree branches it blows-
The smell of freshly hot cooked bread
And when cooling on a tray-
Loves of smells and sounds that all
In memory take you back to a day-
Smallest ever pleasures remembered
Always grace a mind-
There to have you enjoy them always
Never left behind-