By Susan Shea
You gifted me with a
fragrance
called Wild Rose,
stirring me
to find I can fully
inhale myself
wanting more and more…
After years of standing
alone at a perfume
counter
trying so many drops
of mismatch up and down
my arms
ran out of extensions
until finding you.
Now
I have become a
rejoicing
balm in your private
garden
finding full sun with
vines entwined.
About the author: Susan
Shea is a retired school psychologist, who was raised in New York City and now
lives in a forest in Pennsylvania. She has had a little over 100 poems accepted
by publications including, Across the Margin, Ekstasis, Feminine Collective,
Triggerfish Critical Review, Amethyst Review, Litbreak Magazine, A Time of
Singing, Invisible City and others.
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