In my soft dreams of you,
I reach out to touch your almost forgotten fragrance.
Elusive and hanging by a starlight thread
beautiful and out of reach.
If I grasp you,
I know you will take me down old hazy roads
where passion fruits wildly spilt open,
bursting sweet,yellow,juicy in the sun,
the beloved scent blending with
quiet peach roses that grow peacefully
behind the whitewashed wooden backdoor,
of many a childhood escapade.
When I was a child,
I thought your sepals were real velvet,
here, I see you blooming
but you don’t smell quite the same,
maybe you are from another time,