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I found your shirt the other day.
I was on the phone at the time.
My friend said, "Don't smell it."
I didn't need to.

I know your scent in the morning,
Fresh, a hint of cologne,
As you'd kiss me, leaving for work.
I know your scent in the evening,
Tired, a little smokey,
As you'd hold me, glad to be home.
I know your scent late at night,
Close,
personal,
comforting,
As your body would envelop mine.
The way we would end our day.
The way we began the next one.

Do scents change like the seasons?
From the blossoms of spring
To the passion of summer.
From the crispness of fall
To the dead chill of winter.

I know the scent of the morning,
Powder, some lingering coffee.
The door shuts; you're leaving for work.
I know the scent of the evening,
Dinner, another cigarette,
As you'd call me, you're going to be late.
I know the scents late at night,
Sheets,
pillows,
me.
As your body faced away from mine.
The way we would end our day.
The way we began the next one.

I found your shirt the other day.
I was on the phone at the time.
My friend said, "Don't smell it."
I didn't need to.

lj, 1998