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ST GEORGES TO PORT OF SPAIN
I remember the scent of lime,
Not a flower, a fruit; citrus, like the acid passage of time;
Wave upon wave of Caribbean salt in a hazy vast,
Not seeing, just understanding, feelings of gast;
The scent of lime, would settle the stomach
Not withstanding, and however, some will vomit
This i later came to know
Hearing grown-ups talk, "this and that and so and so..."
Not withstanding, age and status, how come?
Ha!!! the march to the adult's drum
No one told me of this before, me and my mother
To be womb-ed at sea, in a boat, going further
Than the market place, down Market Hill.
St Georges to Port of Spain; i'm still
Age about four or five. I remember the scent of lime.
In my contemplation..... like the acid passage of time;
© gillena cox
Written in response to the prompt at Poetry Jam 'Journey'