I no more than entered the kitchen

To get beset by Jasmine- from her garden

But of course, and how it overcomes

Everything- mostly me in an instant

Itinerant aroma through the windows

It’s almost as if, she is- still- here

Brewing her personal perfume

Pictures in my mind come alive

As many of those yesterday’s arrive

Magical, musical, breathtaking

So real- my heart pulsates joyfully

And now, her sweetest laughter

Reverberates in those lively tones

Like opera music; full, captivating

Speaking pointedly in pure notes

Into the fathoms of your own soul

Whereas it weeps- honest and openly

To think; but for her; no flowers, garden

No pre-planted memories blooming…now


Poet of the Light © 2018


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