I'm a mother

"I graduated.
I did so recently.
I know I have, because my emotions are ensuing,
I can hear the classically strung instruments collectively build;
I can see the people around me smiling with tears;
I can see qantas flight attendants walk through my field;
I can feel the weighted importance of each hug;
I can smell nothing -- TV doesn't teach you smells;
But I'm sitting there checking my linkedin profile,
dividing my attention into two - the contemporary way,
as my eyes water, a movie about cancer, he dies.
He had a talent and he died, his mother would peer and
I would wail with overwhelming beauty.

I feel great,
scratching makeup off my forehead,
my nose is blocked,
the sun in my window,
my heart having palpitated, it feels optimistic.
-- I'm sure that is how ageing feels, optimistic once exerted;

I laugh at how I watch a formula,
and not feel cold, or formulated.
I watch an under produced, poorly written journey,
and feel each bump, and still enjoy it like a mother.
As if talking to a child about their day,
an interest; an investment that does not waver,
no matter how poor their grasp on language.

I see it now, my hand guiding their's home.
'how was your day?', and they'll open their mouth
and tell you things you can't find logic in.
I can imagine the entire scene, except the smell,
there is still an absence.
Reality will teach me yet.

Until then I'll collect pot-plants."