Vanilla, that’s what you smell like.
Maybe not anymore, but back when I knew you ...
you smelled of vanilla, of singing in the rain,
of running through a forest, and laughing through the pain,
of singing in the morning, and early evening tea,
of seashells on the shoreline, and seagulls soaring free.
So to me you smell of vanilla, of voices heard at dusk,
your eyes the blue of morning, your skin like an ivory tusk.
But maybe it’s just me, remembering the days,
old memories of you and me, fading through the haze.
Maybe you forgot me, but maybe you remember
our fleeting, happy friendship, that ended last