Sugary white
in the June sunlight,
the rose is dancing
before the green mirror that
is the pond, the water
dappled grey and lime and
yellow.
I can tell you all this
and you might see it
the rose and the light
and the water's surface,
But how can I
possibly describe
the sweet
smell of this five-petaled flower?
I stop and carefully pull
a new white rose
up to my nose and I think
Why are
there no
words
for the miracles
that are scent?
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