A familiar waft of fragrance suffused,
Stairwells abandoned and broken;
My system to detect it almost refused,
Or at least, grant its access a token.
I counted the previous seasons trine,
Nine months we have not spoken,
Lord knows I haven’t ceased trying,
Our friendship I have not forgotten.
Yet when this comforting scent arose,
My swollen heart was hence forsaken,
Woefully, the fond memories and prose,
Windy gusts of December have taken.
Pardon my eyes’ unwelcoming gaze,
My worth and pride have now awoken,
The days set your debris and dregs ablaze,
I dismiss you excused and I am not mistaken.