Smelling Of Roses

Does it ever happen to you that after passing someone on the street,

You find they’ve left a trail of their scent which is very, very sweet,

It doesn’t matter if they are sprinting, whether they are running or not,

It makes no difference if it’s a heat wave or just plain regular hot,

They exude no trace of a whiff, nor anything like a pong,

It always makes me think what the hell am I doing wrong,

Before I go walking antiperspirant has been sprayed as it should,

And perfume has been applied as strategically and efficiently as I could,

But no matter what preparatory work I have done, as I start that pacing,

My muscles moving, machinery working and my heart begins its racing,

My Chanel evaporates just like that, to some place in the sky,

Antiperspirant fails, sweating already, I am not longer dry,

And so there’s no way when I pass by anyone, that I am smelling of a rose,

I wonder if the anomaly is not how I smell, but the fault of my stuffed up nose.

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