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.