Our Fragrance Wardrobe

We favoured the woody, the green

Fig saplings with their milky buds,

Ubermoss and understory of earth.

Incense on his skin smelling 

Sharply sweet in sullen winter air,

Spring was Silver Mountain Water.

We flirted with amber - 

Reminds me of holidays in Cadiz;

Raisin-sweet Pedro Jimenez 

Sun-bleached squares 

Beers the same sepia tinge

As the crumbling bell towers

Cool, dank cellars out of the midday heat.

Vetiver was reserved 

For autumn days, grey river walks 

Arm in arm, wool-muffled against the fog.

If I imagine him now, 

It’s airy citrus, giving way to bitter flint

Leather satchel over one shoulder 

Hint of a wry smile as his hair flops 

And away…

I’m back in fig these days.