Scent Memory

XXXI Days of Poetry - Day the Twenty-third

  

Scent Memory 

I
You left a bottle of your perfume. 
Maybe on purpose; I cannot say. 
When sleep evades, I put a few 
drops on my pillow. The sense of
smell does not think; it feels, 
and it remembers. The briefest 
of scent-memories of you is enough 
to overwhelm my churning exhausted 
consciousness and bring me rest.


   



II
You are the hint 
of lavender and 
jasmine in the air, 
that scent of a hot, 
humid summer night 
I smelled once, long 
ago, and can never 
get out of my mind. 

XXXI Days of Poetry (2016)


Read more Poetry, including previous year's "31 Days"





[ART - Top: "A Dream of a Girl Before a Sunrise" by Karl Bryullov (1799–1852)]

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