Dragonflypoetry.com

It’s hard to describe the blindness

when you’re trapped with an idea

that has been years in the making.

My voiceless need sits inside my head.

Yesterday started out as an accident,

a chance encounter really.

Imagine being instantly transported

to a tiny French village where everything

requires an uphill climb.

Romance is the desired condition

hundreds of years ago

the smell of perfume was new.

The memory in scent is a trigger

as a massive reaction from a few drops.

The bathtub sits wedged in a room

perfect for two,

water tinted from an ancient source,

just one tiny candle

nothing but our voices

reading and planning our days.

The journey is our marker

we lay quietly

in those tiny beds

bodies are constantly touching.

We stay up late kissing the moon,

letting hungry mouths feed.

Each new day holds a surprise

exploring this ancient world

come tomorrow at the parfumerie

I promise to take your hand

and whisper a promise

there in the source

where memories are made.