Scent
The one last probable imponderability
That brings loved ones into my life
Scent
That I can pick off the pages, or infuse
From another young woman’s photograph
Years have passed
Way beyond absolution
Arches of roses collapsed
Bicycles of joyful fusion
Certain as the stones
Laid by the constitution
We, as all others, gasped
Recycled by the resolution
Scent
Homogeneous in a few lines of text
That neither you nor I wrote, to refuse
Scent
Worthy of being named the great imponderable
That brings loved ones back into my life
