You are scent of moss-rose, amber, dew
a starlit sky, the daisy meadow late in June.
You are sense of thunder, the wind that blew
a bashful whiff of lavender cross dunes
and waves to siren me, to lull me moored.
You are scent of promises and lies,
of dirty linens and a sickness cured;
on land of living and for birds who dies.
Perfume of you is carmoisine and beige
a concoction cooked for my seduction
a cauldron coddling essence night and day.
You are both creation and destruction.
I’m tethered to temptation, to the fragrance
of your presence, to your voice and cadence.
At toads Susie inspire us to write poetry about perfume… and I tried a little sonnet.
March 2, 2017