The Sweet Scent of Timelessness

Trapped in a perfect world, what does time mean? Wait, nothing is permanent in this wicked world. Stay or go. Which way did you decide? Is that your hand reaching out to me, Shall I grab your wrist; wait, this is fine. The sweet scent of timelessness circles over my head spinning me heedless. Moods float keeping my goodness in place; there, now I can see your face floating on the canvas circled with a brush in all the grand colors. The thrush of ochre, gray and sand. Tips of green highlight the tops of trees sitting against a sky splashed in blue hue. I feel you there pulling my hand spinning me around and around through years of you and me, burning candles from the heart, aroma swerving through the soul. We set apart, not going somewhere flames burn to keep you a part of the great mountain that only you could see. I wake in scented timelessness every day.