Past Perfume


What glides before him today,
This movement of grace,
Induces memory of yesterday fragrances.

Flowers of long-ago waft through light leaks,
Cracks in the closure,
Where mind’s nakedness once roamed.

Humidity, aroma’s constant friend,
Visited often this heart of romantic wanderings.

Whether at a seashore’s bamboo bar,
Manhattan’s concert in the park,
Or a rainy night in Vermont,
All stood attentive to his awakening dew point.

Today…

Amidst the clarity of the past adrift,
His isolation café of coffee and unlit cigarettes,
Neon flashes sparking the mirrors,
“Open 24 hours”,

Take their place as milestones.

Such recalls the never sleep,
Always ready heart and mind,
Forever gathering scents

Of old and young.

Now the aroma of standing coffee,
Where spoon and cream once offered little relief from love’s absence,
Now merely remain symbols—their intrusion forgetful.

For finding at last love’s natural fragrance.

This bouquet of aromatic balm

Filling the senses with trust and respect,

Has made survival a valued friend,

Reminding me it’s often not easy

To emerge from adolescence.