Each odour is odd
we dream of the sounds and colours
in your dream you can touch
the palpable flesh
of your beloved
we are such stuff
as dreams are made of*
but the odours are outside of our dreams
from the odour begins the reality
ideas do not smell
and forbidden fruit smelt
and its smell remains till now
so smells murder
so smells treachery
so smells carnality
the ecstasy of the smell
reality reeks
but somewhere in the woods
is hidden
the lily of the valley
the fragrance of the frailty
and its sour savour saves
subtle substance
of your sinful soul
2.05.2013.
* Shakespeare
Savour Saviour
© Copyright: Владимир Микушевич, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113050309694
Свидетельство о публикации №113050309694
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