What Is It?


It's fragrance therapy

for I can smell her.

soft scent whiff

spread across the air

wakes me up

from comas.

intertwined with heart aroma.

light red incense

burns from within.

sends strawberry smoke up -

clouds my pupils

leaves me choked up.

And it's music.

I'm not but her ivory tickler

expertly fingering highest keys


notes that escape in choppy ways

just like her breathless screams.

down... down...

down to a rumbling chord.

left hand presses down with resolve

to find the keys she roars.

while two right fingers

swiftly fiddle with

all the sharps that linger.

It's autumn's splendor -

breeze collected

from her breath.

and passing through my hair

this fine september.

leaf abcission -

how she sheds her loving thoughts

upon my grass.

dresses me with color

at longest last.


that give life

to fall harvest -

she flows

in gushing truth -

providing savory drops

for this arid tooth.

brings my words to such fruition.

And it's poetry in motion, really -

how she takes my lines

so silly...

yet applies a gleam

to show me what this paper means.

crafts a stanza

from a broken stutter

leaving me to utter

how I wrote these words...

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