Sunday, October 2, 2011

The Perfume

Wisps of winter in the air,
An ever so slight fog hangs here and there.
Orbs of yellow streetlights look so much warmer,
The smell of a burnt off cracker around the corner.
There's the sweet whiff of the Gulachin flowers.
Memories of gift boxes arriving home, shining like stars.
Of holidays when children played around without a care.
Of love that hung gingerly in the seasonal air.
And so like an alluring perfume you could never perfectly define,
Are sweet October memories of mine.

-Dandelion Head