A heartbeat drums
out of the wilderness.
It’s beating from
the carriage of his heart
And burning with
his flame of tenderness:
An offering of incense,
like an art.
It’s proud, It’s ready,
It’s willing to fight
For her, and for her,
desperately!
But his parade, it passes
through the night
She claps her hands,
and cheers, reluctantly.
Her love exists
in simplicity.
the fragrance writer 