Fragrant Old Memory

 My first visit to that old secluded town
    remains afresh in memories turning brown,
  from faded pages I breathe in the breeze
    aroma of moist maple in crevices to freeze.
  White ferns floating midair in pairs
    en route hilltop as I ascended the stairs.
  Through shades of birch trees sunlight peeped
     a distant rhapsody of echoing fog heaped,
  I remember mother's hand in my fingers
    amazement of her soothing caress still lingers.
  Ambrosial showers of mystic blue starlight
    she'd narrate to me ancient stories at night,
   it was then that she'd gifted me my muse
     when her beautiful lessons dripped to fuse.
  "Draped love pouring to melt aching hearts
    believe in something completely not in parts,
   for you can be whoever you choose to become
     your reality, your acts to others will hum,
   if you stumble and fall to depths too low
       you'll learn to rise beautifully and glow".
 The only visit to that place still springs
    my strongest memory that spreads white wings,
 to drench me in her uplifting mellow to heal
    my tattered spirit whenever too lost I feel,
  guiding me to rise with vapors of aurora 
    my heart still resides in her magenta aura.