Fulcrum of a Rose

A hurried scent. An essence, but more- And more tingling. The wind changes direction. Yet, the smell remains. Always rosy. Blooming, and evolving smell. If I entered a tomb- The smell would be stale. But someone left a rose perfume in the tomb. That I can’t help but spray all over. All over cobwebs and darkness. Some monster living in this dark tomb slipped out. While I’m twirling, dancing, and spraying. A hurried scent. But the molecules of rose smell covered the fur and dust he left behind. A little monster smell… Just makes the rose essence grow.