sometimes there’s a breath br of perfume in the air br it lays low br waiting for movement to stir it up br then it hangs like orphaned smoke. br it clings to my clothes; br forcing me to smell it all day long br bringing back memories… br br br and here I am again br colliding with worlds I thought I had left behind— br wrestling with winds I wasn’t sure would blow. br your name is a mist that floats around my head br a lightweight fog, br triggered by faint reminders br of orphaned smoke.