The smell of perfume
wafts into the air
And sounds of knocking
beg upon her door.
He waits outside, his head
still wet with dew.
And for a moment,
her heart delays.
Then, jumping from her bed,
with hands wet with perfume,
The sound of footsteps
flutter on her floor.
But only his sillage
still lingers there.
Tag: poems
Rashless
I’m found again
lost in antiquity.
Attachments made
and broke by ill intention?
That of old
now modern iniquity.
For reasons
much “too complicated”
to mention.
Home
Take me to the old dirts
just outside of Rome.
Allured by the Smoke
Escaping Ash.
I’m longing for
my heritage, for home.
The old gardens,
Is that warmth
too much to ask?
Death and Laughter
The hot sun sits
unsated on our skin,
My desert rose,
just one or two steps more.
In land of sand and sea,
there’s loving.
There’s living
in the name
of myrth and myrrh.
Sticky Birches
Somewhere in the birches
we would wander;
A [sometimes] day of
letting go with me.
Nature simply
has no lack of wonder;
A losing of
the forests for the trees.
the fragrance writer 