i could close my eyes
and walk for miles
guided by the smells
i sensed: brown baskets of oranges
and overrippe grapes
bearing inside the flesh
the taste of sun.
fresh white linen hanging
on ropes in a garden,
still dripping. and somewhere,
not far away from the fountain,
a rose. a single rose
i could even tell its color
red, red as the poppies
in june, red as your lips
when we kissed in the shade
of the moon. i could tell
the smell of cut grass
green as the back skin of
lizards, turtledoves cooing
around, wild flowers drying
in your old jacket pockets.
as if in a dream,
if i turned in the wind,
i could sense far away
from here,
on paths never walked upon
the smell of rain
each drop falling on leaves
each leaf - a fairy's secret
shelter, a multitude of mushrooms
in the shade.
as if in a dream
or barely awaken,
eyes half open to the morning light
as i washed my face
with dew,
i could sense
in my hands
the scent of you