The bookshelf

The bookshelf, it just sits there

Smiling in mahogany and the scent of varnish

Day after day, she puts her treasures in it

Tolstoy, Carroll, Austen & Hardy

The bookshelf, it just sits there

Happy with yearning and the scent of classics

Night after night, she sat against it

Drinking the words she made them her own

Her bookshelf, it just sits there

Drunk in love and the fragrance of her body.

Fragrance of the stranger

Her fragrance was fresh like bergamot and eucalyptus,

Of delicate Cypress and sultry Jasmine.

I closed my eyes to sense it, 

Feeling shivers rush down my spine.

There at the watercooler, her fragrance floated

This unseen stranger who was there before my time.