Fragrance


What glides before them,
this movement of grace,
arresting memory
of fragrant repose.

Flowers of long ago
waft through light shafts,
cracks in the closure
where mind’s nakedness
once roamed.

Humidity,
aroma’s constant friend,
visits often their hearts of romantic regrets.

Whether at a seashore’s bamboo bar,
Manhattan’s concert in the park,
or a rainy night in Vermont,
all stand attentive to awakening’s moments.

Perhaps today…

Amidst the clarity of drifting bygones,
their isolation of coffee and unlit cigarettes,
and the neon flashes sparking the mirrors
reflecting “Open 24 hours” will stop its

incessant haunting cry.

Such reverie never sleeps,
rendering anticipation in perpetual battle

with the coldness of standing coffee,
where spoon and cream offer little relief
for the always awake hearts and minds
forever gather scents passing through,

whispers from the past,

hoping love’s essence will visit again

and help them all sleep.