One Poem by John Harold Olson

 

Love Is A Flavour 

 

I fell in love with London the first time I heard the name. 

Same with Paris, Rome, 

Mexico. 

 

The word “River” made me think of taking a long drink from a bottle of Atlas orange soda. 

Cypress sounded like paradise. 

 

Manhattan, I was sure, had top hatted men In evening clothes on sidewalks. 

 

When I went to church with my mother, I thought of white frosting. 

 

When I died in the hospital And came back I wanted the clouds I saw, 

very like the vanilla ice cream 

from Lolly’s.

John Harold Olson - Is a retired Special Education teacher in Las Vegas. Transitioning to being a hospice volunteer.