The Smell of my Mother

I smell of my mother. I smell of my mother like when i was a child. I came up to her breasts and would open her mac to hide from the cold. And time after time i soon realised... It wasn't the warmth i sought after It was the smell of my mother. She smiled and she giggled the very first time i opened her mac But soon after that Whenever a wind rose around me, she would open her mac, with her hands in her pockets. I never had to ask. The smell of my mother was mine and me