remembrance of things past

I like these warm dampish days that usher in the spring
The sea hanging heavy in the misting air, the breeze full of the soft promise.
And even if they are long distant,
The mystery and the magic of them
Those bluebells and primroses of my childhood,
Is forever present.
Enough to conjure up
That soft blue haze under the deep green,
Shot through with sunlight,
Which finds the secret smiling yellow faces
And the irridescence of half glimpsed fairies wings
And the perfume
Oh that perfume..
The sudden and beautiful keening pain of remembrance.