Her presence lingers like a rare perfume—
Not seen but sensed—a fragrance in the air;
A will ‘o wisp whose whispers fill the room
With echoes of a voice no longer there.

“I love you,” cries the voice. “I love you, too,”
My heart replies as tears fall from my eyes
And kiss the earth the way that raindrops do
When springtime showers and rainbows paint the skies.

As like the sweet scent of a flower, I fear
Her fragrant presence all too soon will fade
When winter’s frozen fingers, cold and sere,
Embrace each barren hill and leafless glade.

And yet, come spring, I’ll find—as true love knows—
Her fragrance in the scent of every rose.