Fragrance in our hands – A poem

by | Dec 20, 2016

“A bit of fragrance always clings to the hand that gives you roses.” – this is a Chinese proverb you may come across on the internet. What annoys me is that most Western sites make no effort to find the Chinese language of the original: 玫瑰散发的芳香总是停留在手上.

[Side note:- It’s a little thing, but in this multicultural and ever shrinking world, it just takes a little effort to find the source of any quotation. Better value to any visitors, especially if (unlike mine) your site is advert supported or otherwise monetised. I can understand a little about foreign language quotes, but a pet peeve of mine is people not attributing to quotes they use if they can’t be bothered to try and find their own words of wisdom.]

Anyway, this has a personal edge to it. I was in an all too brief relationship with a rather beautiful woman. It was a surprise to both of us and, for good reasons, couldn’t last. I’ll say no more. Another time, another place, another set of circumstances and things could have been very different, but we couldn’t be together because: life. However, the experience was rather deep, enveloped us rather rapidly, and was an absolutely amazing experience, albeit far too short.

On our last meeting, she related this proverb to me, saying the experience we gave each other was a gift that would not be forgotten and would change us: she was right in so many ways. It struck me as a rather beautiful thought and inspired this poem.

My words can’t really do justice to the feelings we shared, but here they are. I hope you enjoy.

Fragrance in our hands

A poem by David Rayden

Fragrance in our hands
Freeze Time! I see tomorrow’s twilight glow!
But this dawn’s light now carries pain to me.
For Time cares not for human joy we know.
Here, now, with you is where I want to be

To see your body laying close to mine;
To feel your skin, your lips; to hear your heart.
I’m dazed with fragrance of our love entwined,
And in the haze forget: today you must depart.

Pale shadows fall across your sculptured hips;
Our passion’s dance releases rhythmic sighs.
Our tongues are gorging through our moistened lips;
Love’s sweat –made satin skin; your pulsing thighs.

A cosmic coupling binds to one desire,
We share our love’s eruptions one last time.
Through dying embers of our trembling fire,
Your eyes share tears of love and loss with mine.

My screams at Time are whispers in a storm.
I beg and yearn for Time to freeze, but no!
Just like the rose is tainted by its thorns,
This dawn is here and you must surely go.

We knew our fate was writ; this day foretold.
Our last embrace defiant to Time’s sand.
Our hearts are soothed by Sages’ words of old:
The rose we shared leaves fragrance in our hands.

David Rayden portrait
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