Out of winter's Icy, white wastes; Out of sharp, cutting Glaze and frigid snow, Treacherous drifts And dirty slush Comes a fragrance Sweet and feminine. What is in a scent But a world Of memories? The lushness Of a springtime garden Filled with sun And laughter. Special summer nights When crickets Were all that spoke To break Our loving silence. Days when The earth and I Were close to one, When I knew The heartbeat Of creation, The deep, rhythmic Breathing in and out Of the Soul Of all the Universe. The soft smell Of this unknown lass As she passes by Awakens dreams Too long dormant In my lethargy. Through my mind This scent Sends skittering Traces of energy Long forgot, Ideas thought dead, Visions believed Faded beyond recall. Is it chance Which brings her Down my hall? Or from afar Does the mystic world Still beckon me?
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