Perfume is whisper. Perfume is breeze.
Like clandestine thoughts probed into
the mind deep. When you’re strolling
at night, steered by scents and sounds
strange, or when reminiscing through,
a half-completed page.
Remember when days used to seem long
and sleep was rarity, you scribbled notes
on the refrigerator, and bought bags full
of leafy greens.
Perhaps no scent, offered relief as much as
lavender leaves, oh few drops of oil rubbed
upon the palm, soothes as though a prayer,
or brief psalm.
Perfume is riddle, perfume is song, like rays
of slowly setting sun. Through winter till the
time of spring; I write of aroma and observe
you sing. Perfume’s when we feel each other,
when your scent’s embedded upon my soul.
Photo credits: Pinterest
Posted on Bits of Inspiration @ Real Toads