The Fragrance

The invisible fragrance taps

On the jasmine tops

Sways a little with air

Mixes with ambrosia there

Steal the yawn of roses

And carries aromatic doses. 

It rushes through the open fields

Rice, maize and golden yields

It dodges through the brook beside

Collect the moisture once died

It moves through the rain soaked soil 

Robs refreshment of numbing toil. 

Trees, they flutter, they murmur

They beat the bands of whisper

It holds the hand of odour and sours

Over the mountains, valleys and forest floors. 

It is hot and cold, fast and slow

No decided destination though. 

It smells sweats and sighs

It is the last breath of demise

It carries a lover’s kiss

Or a toddler’s whispered wish

I hold the fragrance to my soul

Haste! It flies again without goal.