Blue Water Scent

That chemical tang, sharp and clean,

the smell of summers I have seen.

It stings the nose, it bites the eye,

beneath a relentless sky.

The slick tile edge, worn smooth and grey,

where we would sit and waste the day.

The endless blue, a flat expanse,

caught in a childhood trance.

A memory surfaced, cold and bright,

under the harsh, unyielding light.

That sterile scent, a phantom sting,

what the past will always bring.