Poetry | Stories | Photography
memories
the scent of what was
haunting my Spring days
Leaving me in the Winter
ghosts
what was and what was not
dancing with me in the misty mornings
sitting with me as I read about other ghosts
dreams
the smell of what was
black and white, sometimes colour
thinking about you
connected by a spiritual cord
the scent of flowers
far from each other
yet both smell the scent
connecting together
so far from each other
their vision fogs
both run for the door
a rendezvous
You were a whirlwind
of hair, scent and sorrow;
I cannot forget you.
We stand, sit and speak,
yet we walk through life
unnoticed and unscented.
When flesh and bone go,
stripped naked and bare,
you see our vintage souls.
We smell like Patchouli,
lavender, old spice, rum
and the soft sea breeze.
C & K 