These are my poems for you, the mere words
carrying scents of flowers, the wide beach
and white sand. Is that the scent of nectar
in the air? The texture of the jasmine
tickles my nostrils. The shadows of her hair
and shoulder write a new language in leaves
and branches. The green is vivid as my love
turns through the pages of the manuscript
from centuries ago. I can't forget her
despite my constant singing. Here are my
vowels in order, my hopes and dreams, my love
in muttered syllables. She is the smell
of deities beyond words, of the jasmine
whispering between the delicate petals.
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