A scent of peace

I turn each yellowed page,

tattered and dog eared and loved by someone

I do not know

whose hands held this

and perhaps they too,

fell into the spell of words and stories

becoming at one

with the old leather

as they pieced through

perhaps finding themselves a part

of someones world

for just a little while.

The scent rises from the pages

yesterdays spent in unknown places

gathering dust on a shelf

and waiting for my fingers to pull it out

and open to find the magic

of a sentence that calls me

like a lovers whisper

a quiet plea to carry it away

to sit with it a spell

and breathe new life into the tired parchment,

to let if live once more in a mind

and perhaps to become a cherished piece

until I grow weary

or fade away into dust

and it once more will journey

into a tired shelf waiting a new touch,

wanting to be learned

to be heard

and loved once again.

Scent….dream fragrance

I lay in sleep state,
Yet somehow aware
Eyes closed
I smell the soft scent
A memory I can’t recall
Drifting around me.
I open my eyes and my thoughts
Reach back to childhood
Shopping with my father
A gift to buy
I don’t remember for who,
Maybe grandmother,
A friend?
Walking through the
Drug store on the corner
A parking lot now,
The shelves at child level
Of colored bath oil beads
And loves baby soft
Jean Nate ,
Old scents I have not encountered
Since youth.
Yet I lay here
Surrounded by a memory
A meaning it must have
Open to a belief
Of ghosts and unseen,
The message must be there
Or yet to come.
I hold out my hand and follow
Where dreams take me,
And sweet smells embrace
A child again.