Sweet and wonderful are smell of dry air in the breezy and solitary open
LIke that of bread soaked in margarine, quasi burned in the oven
The taste is remindful of romantic acquaintances hewn to fields of Roses
Stretched afar, to where the lands open to other lands of colors and scents
The fineness of delicious scents, nose-alluring grow with the passing wind
The signal it passes undiluted, without mix of any kind, unpurified
Sometimes these scents come from the forsaken wild,
From dusts, pushed about by the browned roadside
Lonely nights come with these memories of pretty smells
Designed, packaged and yet revealed by Nature to all
