Scent of Time.
Wafting, in breeze
of past scented summers
the breath of our days
together drifts over
each vision of mem'ry we made.
Our fun as we sensed
the other's desires,
wove colourful dreams
which lived for a while,
all blown away now,
yet then time stood totally still,
we willed it that way.
Some of the falling stardust
remains,
and reminds me to note
how we laughed back then.
Time only allows
us what we inspire it to be.
Perfumed gold
of glorious days still thrills me.
NowI recall our delights
they fill the room.
fragrancing all my heart,
I am grateful for then.
Scented memories are our fate.
sonetta
you're so talented Fay...it's rare that one can both write and paint so beautifully!
you're so talented Fay...it's rare that one can both write and paint so beautifully!
heterodynemind
And you paint too! This painting so perfectly matched your poem Fay, that I swear I could smell cedar and damp leaves and ozone. 'Time only allows us what we inspire it to be' is such an inspired line.
And you paint too! This painting so perfectly matched your poem Fay, that I swear I could smell cedar and damp leaves and ozone. 'Time only allows us what we inspire it to be' is such an inspired line.
Summers, scents, breezes, stardust all waft on the page where your memories are recorded. Such beautifully woven images that you don't necessarily need now but are part of your psyche and who you are. Just glorious. love Karin