11.19.07
Scent of a Little Woman
Of the book of my life, I thumb through the leaves. Strong traces of blaue blume infiltrate my
nostrils as I turn a page, while an Ottoman Master Illuminator seemed to have expertly stroked a perfect hue to match the scent… an enigmatic blue enchanting to the eyes
but threatening to the spirit.
All of a sudden YOU flip forward to the next empty page and
scribe with your very soul until fragrance of white flowers emanate from the
pages - a scent of pure unadulterated
nature… and delicately you bury the stains of blue with white unblemished
petals.
…and silently peach-colored petals join the white as a little
girl softly whispers, “he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not…”
How dare she taint the white with her undeserving flaws?
