it was weeks ago now.
that first month of september we spent here on this island, still hot and balmy.
i wanted a scratch and sniff for you.
some clever little corner of the screen so that i could share this most perfect thing.
the smell of beach roses, all briney.

they were abundant outside of the cottage.
each time i passed, i wondered how i had gotten so lucky.
that they had become like dandelion in my life.

hardy, scrappy and perfectly soft all at the same time.
nestled in their rocky, sandy homes. smelling like heaven. round, round hips.
i wanted to eat them, be them.

and i wanted you to smell them.
as if sharing them would somehow exponentially increase the delight.
or make the sense more real.

but it was mine, alone.
and it was exquisite all the same.

Posted by kind permission of the poet.