A young woman boards the metro
& takes the seat beside me.
She is tall, fair, pretty, smells
of cigarettes & Sunflowers,
the perfume that you used to
wear when we first met, the scent
which used to catch the breath
in my throat & set off a
warm tumbling
inside of me.

It was your everyday perfume
you told me. You'd picked it up
cheap in Boots.
you wore more expensive scents
on nights out or on special
occasions -- something with a touch
of class.

But it's the Sunflowers I remember.

I turn my face to the window
as the bus moves slowly through town.
Out in the street the wind blows,
the skirts of women flap like flags
in the breeze. Builders huddle in
the half-built shell of an
office block, their palms cupped
protectively around cigarettes, taking
a break from making this town whole again.

I close my eyes & breath deeply the scent
of Sunflowers as I wait for
this traveller's journey to be done.

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