Sunken and Arose
Your scent lingers
Wafted through time --
Time and time again --
and now my clothes.
Dear Rose, your petals
whispered secrets as chimes
in the Emperor’s ear.
They never drifted
to the countryman’s
village
where my humble
great great great…
grandparents lived far
from the imperial gardens.
The same secrets
heard by
the town florist
before the high school formal
the yard
blooming in spring
my perfume
the middle note
draw wandering eyes from
any passersby.
“What’s rare is precious,
what’s common, cheap.”
You elude both sides.
Blossoming
fragrance clinging on,
underneath the soil,
upholding the grand arbor --
Undervalued, overlooked.
From my first love,
tulips
When he had gone,
carnations
“Your favorite?”
Osmanthus. She bid me farewell long ago.
Maybe You were my
real first love.
You stayed, like
an abandoned purebred puppy
I see why they wanted You
But why not anymore?
That’s fine,
Your mysterious appearance
on my doorstep --
on my shelf --
I promise
not to trample over.
Your essence
I’ll take as my muse,
in the quiet hum of the window
where the outside sun shines on the
rustling of the bush.
Steep the tea
macaronage
baklava
Spray You on my neck.
They murmur
You lost Your grandeur
after three thousand years,
Your beauty
beared and bared.
For me, You are still
just mine:
A taste
of elegant, ethereal
comfort.