a sense of scent

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I almost missed this Magpie Tales #33 visual writing prompt, but better late than never.
(As usual, you can read other submissions at the link above.)

A Sense of Scent

She thought she was done with him,
but one night the moon rose
clear and full-faced,
and an early autumn wind
swept the scent of lavender
through her open window.

Some times are harder than others
to sit silent,
hands clenched against
the lure of the pen,
mouth set against
the call of the phone,
thinking to oneself
that some things are better
left to silence,
to the slow decay of time,
the turning of moons
and lavender seasons.

But even in the darkest of corners
some things refuse to die –
some small husk still
riddled with seeds,
some insistent root
defying the dust,
some dormant dream
of a riotous clash of hearts,
clutch of minds,
dance of hands that
hope and hold and, too soon,
let go.

She thought she was done with him,
except his voice
still pulls at her belly
like the insistent tides of the moon.
So when he calls
from places lush
with a thousand thriving things,
she sends him dewy lavender
wrapped in familiar black lace,
because, they say,
The sense of smell
is the most visceral,
holding even the darkening
memory of the dying.

9 thoughts on “a sense of scent”

  2. The sensual pull of the lavender, ‘most visceral’ to the senses, yet the seeds continue to lie dormant…

    Hopeful promise of something returning to it’s life form… maybe.

    Wonderful magpie.

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  3. I think your line “The sense of smell is the most visceral, holding even the darkening memory of the dying” is just perfect. I love that line and it is so true. My grandmother passed in 2003 and sometimes I smell things that remind me of her and it is like she is still with me.

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  6. This is very good. No adverbs. Few adjectives. Lots of strong imagery instead of “descriptive parts of speech” You know how to write.

    Reply ↓

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