was that a smile upon her lips,
that stranger I just crossed—
who transfixed me with the rhythm of her hips—
does she look back?

likely not, but what she leaves behind
is her scent
for me—alone—to find.

thus I pass into her world,
where trace of rose and jasmine swirl
and for this sweet moment I possess her—
as surly as we lay, legs entwined—
til on the breeze her fragrance dissipates—
and I can no more hold her in my mind
than detain her in my arms.
at last I turn—too late—
she is gone, and all her aromatic charms.