I just smelt the scent of one on another,

not quite the same but nearly itself.

The scent though not quite was one of another,

and for a moment it stole me away from myself.

And how could you know, oh you this another,

what promise has borne the scent that you wear?

That it once had strength to rouse such an ardour,

such tempests to hush and such angst to repair.

The scent that you mimic is lost now to time,

just echoes and spirits that dance on your skin.

For that scent was begot in a world so sublime,

and the nose that could smell it remained there within.