Saturday, March 3, 2018

Each scent

Each scent that I encounter
Finds its origin in you.
Each face, however dark or light,
Young or old, pockmarked or smooth,
Was first seen in your eyes.
Whatever weather --hot or cold,
Floods or freezing rain
First leaves your hands
Before it warms or chills me,
And each event --
The blessing, curse, or ordinary --
Finds its way into my life 
Having passed through your
Creative processes.
You paint the canvas on which I dance;
I am but one of many brushes
Carrying shape and color into your world.

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