Of things known

A glimpse of just one leaf
springs forth on my lips
the mango tree’s identity
with such ease.

The blurry shape of my father
in a crowded distance,
my eye recognizes the gait, 
the contours in an instant.

When the whiffs of spiced lentils
dance in the air on an unknown street 
my nose declares ‘rajma chawal’
without a doubt to debate.

The way one's ears knows their child’s voice 
or ones' skin the touch of a long-time lover.

Of things known such, I can only say, 
the mind seems too distant a home, 
and so these precious memories
in our bodies itself choose to stay.

Photo by Rolands Zilvinskis on Unsplash