I’m out on my balcony
killing time, counting stars.
Jasmine’s in the air when suddenly
the sweet scent of vanilla brings back
a different time, a different garden, a different moon.
You were there,
and vanilla-scented whiffs of smoke
still rattle my mind.
It was so very peaceful,
but then winter came
and rendered the garden barren.
And you were gone.
Perhaps my fault,
perhaps yours.
Who knows, who even cares anymore?
And here goes yet another summer.
My balcony garden is nice,
not the same, just nice.
And I dream about how things used to be,
though dreams have faded and you along with them.
I’ve almost forgotten your face,
yet the scent of jasmine still haunts me,
along with memories of sultry summer nights
and vanilla-scented whiffs of smoke.
Memories fade into pictures of memories.
And yet they live again on a soft summer breeze.
