You—your fragrance is like a flower; not just any.
Daffodil? In springtime you appear for a few weeks, then you’re gone. Rose? You do tantalize but just for a while. And calla lily; oh! you’re beautiful when you show up. Ha, you’re a prima donna—but You—your fragrance is, yeah, ethereal.
What more can be said? I love to take you in, I love to be near, I love how you wafer into my being, mind, and body. You are blissful to the olfactory.
Tell the truth Bvlgari—you scented her. Dolce & Gabbana you too. Ha! You—your perfume is radiance found in a pull. That sensimania business is for the birds. You—your fragrance is real.
When my nostrils are blocked, its like groping in the dark. You—your aroma is like light to the blind, music to the dumb, water to a parched land.
You—your fragrance is like a flower; not overpowering, but blooming through the rain, the sunshine and breeze. You—you’re ‘poui-immortelle’ in tandem. As one goes the other comes. Where you come from, who knows?
Keep me near.
a few scribbles here and there... 