Scent of the storm he aroused in my heart
sends memory's perfume to bathe
every tortured dream.
Whispers of verse seared to my core start
a chain of re-tasting late love's
delightful appeal.

Zest of meant words fed me excitement,
bound me to vows of contact on
fierce clandestine pyres.
Can pierced bliss retrieve grief's surprise
or from separate corners could we
re-charge empty fires ?

Intention's lost cause breeds displacing,
as hopes fade and lonely nostalgia
replaces out-worn plans.
Yet love's voice once heard is not effaced
and days arrive when comfort may
take hold of cold hands.

Past fragrance drunk down can enliven
and again make rejoicing recalled
stir heart's needed ferment.
Despite tears spilt at nectar's sweet lines
I still breathe his scent.