Perfume

Merely an observation of many who’ve thrown in the towel. Staying alive is to know fragrance comes in many forms.

Perfume
          by Odin Roark

What glides before him
This movement of grace
Inducing memory
Of fragrant presence

Flowers of long ago
Waft through light leaks
Cracks in the closure
Where mind’s nakedness
Once roamed

Humidity
Aroma’s constant friend
Visited often
This heart of romantic wanderings

Whether at a seashore’s bamboo bar
Manhattan’s concert in the park
Or a rainy night in Vermont
All stood attentive to awakening’s dew point

Today

Amidst the clarity of drifting’s past
His desert café of coffee and unlit cigarettes
Neon flashes spark the mirrors
“Open 24 hours”

Such recalls the never sleep
Always ready heart and mind
Once forever gathering
Scents of old and young

Now but the aroma of standing coffee
Where spoon and cream
Offer little relief
Where perfume will never dance
Again