THE SCENT
An
elderly women sat next to me,
I
could smell her decay, her withering scent;
On
the other side sat a maiden fair,
whose
scent was as sweet as could be.
A
flower in bloom, a flower soon to pass;
Should
I sense the decay of the blossom?
Or
the sweetness of a bud bygone?
All
bodies spring forth, bloom and decay;
All
souls take grip and too soon release;
No
perfume can hide the scent that I smell,
For
it is the smell of Life itself.