Red it flows out of the cavern well
Shadows cross the battered dell,
Years the storms have swept and swelled
Upon this old decrepit dell.
Sadness to has played it’s part
Chained and bound to this cart
Up the hill we have trod with no support
Enough to break any heart
And lo what wafts through the air
Floral sense can be smelt everywhere
Deprived of this sweat sensation for many years
Now it dances upon the nose,
Its bewitching aroma does ensnare
And with it erases many cares
Tears form upon my eyes
Even as the true materializes
Will this sense of smell depart
Will I have wish goodbye
To a pleasure rarely known
A dagger of logic through my heart
Matthew William Lindquist 