Memory’s Fragrance

What glides before him,
Is the movement of grace,
Inducing memory
Of fragrant presence.

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 awakening’s dew point.

Today

Amidst the clarity of drifting’s past,
His desert cup of coffee,
Memory’s neon-flashes spark the mirrors of mind,
“Open 24 hours”

Such recalls that never sleep,
Always ready heart and mind,
Once forever gathering
Scents of old and young,

Now but the aroma of standing coffee,
Where spoon and stirring
Offer little relief,
Where memory’s fragrance

May never dance
Again.