Old, leather chairs have certain unmistakable aromas. Perhaps it’s the skin of the animals they heralded from, their pastures, the farms they called home? Perhaps not. I often overthink these things. As for me, I believe they take on the scents of those who cherish them. Like love, aromas linger.
Caught in mauve moments, Lavender on the breeze, Swaying to the perfumes of life, I breathe. Chest expanding, Lungs filter relaxants, I close my eyes and know peace. If only every moment Could be mauve. If only every moment Could be like this. Cleansed in the gentlest way, Eyes stay closed a little longer. And […]