You can see them in the picture
but you can never smell them.
Even though you were right there, with them,
their sweet scent filling your nose as you
held the frame, made the shot,
trying hard not to trample,
not to mow down that beauty with your clumsy footsteps.

I had a lover once.
I look at her photograph, know I loved her scent,
a smell that I can no longer remember.
I only remember the doing of it,
breathing in her skin like air,
licking the light sweat off her body as we coupled.

I know I loved that smell,
but some things cannot be preserved or held,
no matter how hard you love them.