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.
Copyright © Gisele Vincent-Page | Year Posted 2011
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