I sneaked into bed,
with the help of dim, yellow beams of street lamps filtered through the blinds.
I felt my way to your arms, put my icy cold fingers on;
you shivered, and moaned in comfort.
It was a warm October night.
With my eyes closed, edging my head towards you
until our skin gently touched.
I smelled Osmanthus.
There was no actual scent present, rather,
it was a piece of memory somehow linked to the lush, yet innocent fragrance.
The brain perceived no difference.
I saw the vastness of green, with hints of clear blue sky through the cracks.
I could barely keep my eyes open, for vivid sunlight proclaiming summertime.
And then I saw the delicate, tiny flowers that are so easily to be ignored,
and the sweet scent that invites, not just invites, but allures and hypnotizes.
I kept my eyes shut, lingered in the moment,
with you.
One Response to “Osmanthus”
beautiful.