The stench
and foulness around me
so pungent
so wretched
And all my efforts
end in vain
so futile
so useless

This burning funk
of gasoline and smoke
will not disperse
no matter what I try

Can I not smell a meadow anymore?
Are all the roses dead?
Just one more wiff of honeysuckle,
is all I ask.

A frolick in a field of clover
dewy
and soft.

A brisk swim in a stream
clear
pure
not tainted by the rot
of a city.

I just want
to smell
the sweet scent of earth,
that gentle perfume
floral, familiar
and not factory-made.

04/09/2002

Posted on 04/09/2002
Copyright © 2024 Melina Raven Maness Diebold