White steam breath rises on frigid black background,
Steely blue street lights stab into the street around;
Thoughts that want to mingle bleed through poised third eyes,
Hair embraces over foreheads, tips of paired noses like ice.
Wind whips across the tarmac whining bittersweet farewell,
A fastner on a flagpole rattles out a hollowed knell;
A Delta 88 pops gravel as the Lear jet staves the wind,
Rustling white rabbit peels reflections near the end.
Separating heavy garments yields up memory's bouquet,
An olfactory tableau made of moments on that last day;
Souls dined again on flesh's scent in patchouli reprise,
You compared the thick aroma to the color of my eyes.
What was in your anger that kept me so far away?
And what stopped the clock to leave me here still today?
The sauces, wines and mousse are reminders of misery,
But a matchbox with fragrant oil brings you back to me
Written By My Dear Friend Ernest Cordell
These words spoke to me when I read them. It seemed as if he pulled from my emotion of late. I am speechless and powerless.
