Smell of perfume fills the air,
it’s my ghost friend who is near.
I ask a question in my mind,
“Does ghost want me to see a sign? ”
Do I know perfume is real this time?
Smell of perfume by my car,
it is lingering only so far.
Not in other parts of air,
the ghost wanted me to believe
she was there.
Watching over me, to show she cares.
By Suzanna Chevalier on September 4,2011
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem