Walking through a sea of purple,
Like shot silk, yet alive,
And the warm sun
Enhancing the perfume.
As I brush each stem,
The intoxication of scent,
Warm, full, rounded,
Spicy, even.
And a luscious torpor ensues,
Invading the nose,
Bewitching the brain,
Infecting me.
Memory of intimate touches flood back.
My mother placing small sachets under my pillow.
Incense sticks perfuming a party room.
Reflexology, massage, therapy.
All this from a lavender field.
Lavender Fields
08 Thursday May 2014
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carolinaheartstrings said:
Ah. This evokes good memories for me too: Sachets made by mom in drawers, my gran’s garden, and a trip to France. Lovely.
caroness1 said:
I’m glad you have find memories of it too!
RAAckerman@Cerebrations.biz said:
Mahvelous! Simply “mahvelous”
caroness1 said:
Thank you Roy
Suerae Stein said:
Gorgeous!
caroness1 said:
Thank you Surae! You can almost smell that field can’t you?!
Muriel said:
I totally can smell that field. And if feels great. Thank you!
caroness1 said:
You are welcome