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Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils

The Blue Buffalo

Little Man Orange--My Mister Peanut Butter Trout

Not Someone's Grand Illusion

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall



THE STITCH IN THE TELEPHONE WIRES

Patch-Worked Trilogy

I Turn Forward

The Storm

Prairie Town Progress

Beyond Door Number Three

And Then It Wasn't Hard To Be Eight Years Old

Elise, Elise

A Bird, A Fly, A Cripple (Pity Poem?)

The Make-Up of Molecules

HOW

Haiku's In Triplicate

THERE WILL BE MORE ...

EVENTUALLY...

The Change In The Change(s)

At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

EXPECT COMPLICATIONS

A New Clear

What Exactly Comes Next?

morning thoughts (begin again)

Encounter Before Dawn

Somtimes in Surrender

The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)

Shedding Your Skin

On the Wings Of A Bird

My Heart Knows Him Still ( For TLP)

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Belle Du Jovan


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





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