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My Sense of Smell


My Sense of Smell

Written by The Parkinson’s Poet

I miss the smell of coffee in the morn,
the captivating scent of lilacs’ bloom,
the mintiness of hay that’s freshly shorn,
the sexy subtleness of your perfume.

Oh, I can hear the sizzle of the meat;
I see you pour a pricey red Bordeaux;
I feel the baking oven’s rising heat,
but I can smell no fat or wine or dough.

I do not miss the stench of sweaty clothes
or skunks or rotten eggs or passing gas,
but I do miss the scent of rain and rose,
of eucalyptus leaves and fresh-cut grass.

I well can thrive devoid of fragrant bliss
long can I touch your skin and taste your kiss.

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