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What I'd Like To Give Is An Ounce Of My Perfume
By R. Henderson 

What I'd like to give you, is an ounce of my perfume..
Or so to speak..
An aroma like many others is what I shall bequeath.
The air stirs as it consumes all the space above and all beneath.
The enchantments allure called like a siren to each.

Each spellbound patron breathed in deep.
As thru their blood the essence seeped
Then before their eyes the beginning leaps
As memories began to steep

Flashes of times when broken tears were destined to fall.
The sting of words thrown with no regard.
The days the moments that were so hard.
Pieces of the life of a lonely bard.

Days gone by, endured through isolation.
Battles won with no prizes or consolations.
The lessons learned through condemnation. 
Walking alone through civilization. 

Apart stood a soul strongly rooted as a tree.
Able to bend even in the wind that you can not foresee.
Able to grow roots from what is believed.
In a forest meant to only deceive.

One tree beaten and worn.
Stood in a forest full of scorn.
From its branches it own leaves had been torn.
As the breeze blows by, whispered words take form.

"I am you and you are me. I am the comfort of what you believe. I am the first cry of a newborn baby. I am the breathe that pain takes from thee. I am what we feel, what we see, what we breathe. I am just an ounce of the perfume of many. I am life."

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