not roses nor tulips
not the smell of the wind rushing through your face
on the first day of spring
not the smell of newly cut grass
that fills your lungs with a new day
freshly squeezed orange juice
in the country side
not lemonade
even with the aid
of the scent a bright summer's day
not lazy sunday morning
when the rain would fall
and you'd scurry to the crook of your bed where you body fits
perfectly
not the earthy scent
of bonfires when the sun shys
from the twilight sky
not the afternoon walk you take
with all the time you have to yourself
you see a butterfly
it flutters
and you suddenly feel it in your stomach again
not even the scent of that four-letter-word in the air
can compare
and even above
all of that, i'm telling you
nothing smells better
than the person you love
how was i even capable to creating such cheese