As a child I made my own perfume in the summertime. To see the rose petals grace the grass was enough to make my heart leap as all children's hearts should have the chance to. I'd gather them with the girl next door and we'd crush them in water. Est voila! Perfume! Or so we thought. We did however pass many summer afternoons this way, Sam and I.
There are times a song can be so haunting in all the right ways, that it takes you to a deep and peaceful place in your soul; a sweet and gentle perfume can do the same. It can transport you in less than an instant to a place of tranquil love, to a time when your innocent self felt free to surface and smile.
Her perfume was as her spirit is; there was something of dancing flowers about it, that aromatic song, that floral orchestra of the soul.
In that intimate space, so close to the nape of her neck, I already knew the scent of her perfume was something I'd always crave. I knew I'd have that emotional need to come right back here to this exact moment, to this blessed time our connection was made.
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