A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.

SCENE

Searching behind your portrait
Framed within my mind,
I imagine you
Alighting from a stool,
Modestly,
A motion
Lends to your skirt
An alluring swirl,
My thoughts frenzied,
By the first sensation
Of your fragrance . . .
Scenes, visions,
Flash across my brain,
Then are gone,
Merciful in their brevity,
Or these eyes would never
See again.


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