It’s neither the sun nor the waves,
neither mountains nor forests.
It’s not the boughs of our oak
in summer, when laden with leaves.
It’s neither the nightingale’s song
nor the speckle of shadows on ferns.
It’s not even the voice from your lips,
not the glimmer of gold in your hair
It’s only the attar that follows —
the wave in the wake of your presence.
A vase of roses by Vincent van Gogh
Linked to the Tuesday platform at toads
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July 3, 2018
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Gosh this is so dreamy and romantic, Bjorn! 😊 Love “It’s not the boughs of our oak in summer … It’s only the attar that follows — the wave in the wake of your presence.” 💜
Looked up ‘attar’. Enjoyed the insight that much more.
Yes it is the essence isn’t it? You are waxing romantic today. I like this side of your poetry. It is not even noon and already it is 94F
Damn Bjorn…that was really good. You swept us up and then through the altar. Loved this.
Oh, this is so beautiful, Bjorn!
That sort of presence is a miracle to sniff after. Yum!
Love that ending.
What an aromatic poem! Smells gooood.
Thorny little devils only good for one thing and that is their seductive scent. I could never understand developing roses that didn’t. They were like women and tended to scratch if you got too close.
kaykuala
It’s only the attar that follows —
the wave in the wake of your presence.
van Gogh is certainly captivating. no doubt about it!
Hank
Love it!
I like this Bjorn, it was nice that you could relate all these nice complements to a person liked. Clever use of the word, “attar”, too. It won’t be a literal smell as you have placed it her, rather a sense of ‘her’ having been there.
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So beautiful sentiments and the fragrant emotions!!
A romantic wave of a poem, Bjorn, and a beautiful via negativa.
Even the absence of the beloved is a presence, fleshed out by yearning. Lovely poem, Björn–its scent is pervasive and lasting.
“It’s only the attar that follows” – terrific!
Ah, gorgeous. I really love your title!
Wow, that was extremely beautiful! Such a great poetry.
Yes, the way you built this tender ode up to the conclusion is just perfection.
I love the word “atar”–and I love couplets–and I love this
beautiful