The skyline glows, like low stars.
And,
Streams of cars, shine like rivers.
In the wind, there’s a scent,
Of perfume… of a concept.
On the streets, a man’s feet steps.
His lungs are filled, with her scent.
But,
In his mind, she’s a living painting,
An advertisement,
An unknown, modeling ‘her’ fragrance.
Into a store, his footsteps.
The a/c’s perfume takes his breath.
He walks the aisles, like the streets.
Stumbling at women,
While,
Smelling, their vicinity.
Out the door, her footsteps,
Onto the streets of New York.
She has brown eyes and blond hair,
And a naked finger to go with,
The theme of the perfume, she wears.
In the wind, she leaves its scent,
Her perfume … and its concept.
May 23.2017
-
Author:
Cyprian Van Dyke (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 28th, 2017 12:07
- Comment from author about the poem: I was inspired to write this poem, years after reading a poem by someone somewhere else, with the username WhitePlumFragrance, titled, She Smells Like Flowers. What made reading this worthwhile for you??
- Category: Love
- Views: 49
Offline)
Comments2
Lovely romantic and sensorial poem. I want to know what scent is that.
Thank you for reading! 🙂
Ahh, the naked finger...perhaps one would continue to follow her like a blood hound with a degree in aromachology? Nothing like a signature scent to make one memorable.
Nicely put lol 🙂 Agreed, they say the sense of smell has the strongest memory. Thank you for reading and commenting.
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