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its scent
reminds me of my distant past and my ever-gaining distance to the past a whiff of it and I'm transported for me is pure heaven a bottle filled with nostalgia and memories I gasp when I chance upon a vial or a bottle of it online I've spent both money and borrowed precious time to think about it its as if I'm floating on a carpet of clouds or within the stuff of lost dreams days when my hair grew long and tangled and the better seasons seemed to last when the wind blew behind me I'd laugh at my recklessness as I rode none-handed as a used my right knee to steer down steep hills on my Schwinn pretending to fly Belle was with me the first time I danced she gave me courage enough to say yes to a stranger if men noticed me Belle played a part in it the fingerlings of her scent lingering and sinuing through the air ensnaring male attention I became a secret garden the scent of a gardenia and rose on a languid hot summer early morning Belle made me feel richer older, wiser wiser than my 18 years she gave me a right to claim someone I had not yet become so not ready too was I for all that attention nor intentions today as I sit quietly with you Belle thoughts flood in I recall a specific kind of happiness and excitement and how it rushed over me back then as the wind makes a leaf shudder the power in a rose or in a gardenia to transform an ordinary Midwestern girl into a young woman, is extraordinary in you Belle I have made a loyal and constant friend. legal copyright for this poem 10:37PM December 16 2019 time/date stamped re-edited for clarity and effect December 18th 2019 7:03pm PST time/date stamped. and also for this legally copyrighted writer Melissa A. Howells and also for this legally copyrighted site title Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World Vote for this poem |
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