Of Chanel Number 5
On the pillow
Of my dirty narrow cot
When I barely knew you,
But knew you wore it,
Matured to Windsong
On a coat collar,
Emeraude on white silk,
Ombre Rose
On cotton camp shirts.
Now we lie here,
Spooning like young lovers
Atop our Sleep Comfort bed,
My nose in your back
Inhaling the sweet orange oils
Of Medline therapeutic cream,
Secure in more than forty years
Of finding every scent you wear
Unutterably sexy.
©2010 John I. Blair
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