A poem #46 – Sweet scents

She moves like water,
underneath the bridge,
and scatters like salt over a shoulder,
in a whimsical wish.

She is as free as the leaf,
floating on the wind,
as playful as a pup,
and the bird that sings.

She is as delicate as a butterfly,
as it comes to rest upon a finger,
and in my heart I want nothing more,
than for her sweet scent to linger.

JP Collins

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s