Scent Poem by Jim French

If I could smell
I would drink your scent in
like a man who had crossed a desert
Quenching on oasis water
In a land of greys and heat

Since scent I cannot sense
I will create your scent from the memory
Of my time of scent

I shall steal and borrow

Of the memories
Of the air, clean on cooling summer nights
Of the trees, sweet after the rains
Of the grass newly mown
Of the Strawberries scent heavily escaping
And tantilising from a bite newly taken.

In the fecund time when scent returns
I will devour your scent
to beg, borrow and steal from it
to carry me to the next oasis