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By Prem Sylvester

The whiff of eucalyptus oil

reminds me of the nights

my mother sought to soothe my reddened nose

with its healing effervescence,

the woody fragrance flowing through me

as a clear stream in the hills would,

freeing my clogged nostrils;

healing me

I still keep a bottle of eucalyptus oil

by my bedside.

Its aroma reminds me of the hills

where everything seems so clear,

and I am reminded of you –

you who comfort me,

you who help me breathe;

you who help me heal

Prem Sylvester is a writer from India who turns into words the ideas he catches a whiff of from time to time. Sometimes people read these words. His work has appeared in or is upcoming in Memoir Mixtapes, Rigorous, Rising Phoenix Review, and Anti-Heroin Chic, as well as in national media platforms like The Hindu and Buzzfeed India.

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