Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2018
-when he began transforming his guest room...for me.

-our first Christmas after he moved me home and created our mantle from my old place.

-all over him after his days of doing carpentry with his Dad this spring.

- his scent I crave each day when he returns to our haven after a day of work.

-all over him again last Saturday as he sanded an antique cabinet for me.

I’ll never tire of the scent of sawdust. The scent is etched into my olfactory memories as one so sweet- blood sweat, tears and sawdust.
He puts all of himself into us.
For me and to me, he is love.
And I’ll never tire of the scent of sawdust.
Written 5/29/18
Angie Christine
Written by
Angie Christine  F/Texas
     Orion H and Fawn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems