Brushed flowers release
fragrance as you walk by.
Unnoticed, it lingers
appreciated by those
who stop a while to ponder.
Is the scent in the air?
Or in the flower?
It is both here and there,
released from the tomb,
yet the memory is unperturbed
to be distilled again
upon the touch of a petal,
inhaled by all who wander past,
present and in the days to come.
And in the aroma, all time
exists in the memory of the flower.



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