Lost Jasamine Sense
No worries,
we once said,
as we walked,
out of service,
and held to each other's coats.
No care at present,
the day is long, and sunny,
the smell of sweet jasamine,
made our living, exquisite.
But now, I realize,
that I don't smell it.
A confusing absence,
when once I knew it,
so well, for the small form of life was wondrous,
all-consuming o'er us,
for oft we walked with its tenderest,
offered the jasamine gentle,
offered us its serene,
offered us,
every particle,
of that which composes it.
Now, the jasamine,
lingers still but,
it wafted,
far beyond our homliness,
to prettier places.
Oh, the jasamine,
how I shall miss,
the warm, perfumed senses,
how I long,
but cannot feel its sensation.
Sweet jasamine,
I see an empty room.
Sweet jasamine,
there are only cactuses,
for this is how tough,
and prickly,
has become,
the love in our sad hearts.
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