This is no time for demure scents,
They must be bolder to infiltrate
The mask that has emptied shops –
Burnt sandalwood, amber, musk,
Dried cedar and Samarkand rose,
Evoking that first kiss in the park,
Winter opening its fist to spring,
The moment twilight turns to ash.
What is the purpose of perfume?
Is the touch on her sinewed neck
Meant to enhance her self-esteem
Or surprise another with delight?
Or, like the cut and colour of hair,
Both a public and private affair?
PERFUME MAKER by Tom Petsinis | Sandalwood & Rose Poetry Reed Diffuser
$20.00Price
