Lemon Scent
Sitting here, waiting for a clearing breeze ,
in my forest of endless trees,
and responsibilities.
It never came, the restless surge,
from deep within, the stormy siege
that blows the top off Carpe Diem.
A cup of tea and a magazine,
the traces of her lemon scent,
that rises aromatically.
I never thought to look for that,
Within my maze of discontent,
A kind of serendipity.
The little things, that’s what I meant
Like the traces of her lemon scent.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
