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.
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