Author: thefragrancewriter

The dark blue junipers,
now unreserved,
Awakened by the melt
of winter’s ice.
With hearts of sandalwood
they’ll be preserved,
If memories of warmth
might be lived twice.

Somewhere between
the first aroma on a rainy day
and the final sip before work
I’ll savor the flavor of a dark espresso
and scribble the words of
a pretend poet.

Brick chimneys silhouette
a dark, cold stare.
Anticipate
the warm and affable.
The smell of wooden fire
fills the air.
Their crackling,
generously laughable.

Uncertain on
what labels to apply.
Exotic Landscapes/
Foreign Exposures.
I close my eyes,
another place I lie.
Required Escapes/
Open Enclosures.