Scent Bottle Poem by Mark Heathcote

Love embarks like a beast to visit its prey
But perfume captivates and turns hunter into game
And afterwards, needy of a guide to purvey,
He's lain in a ditch and complains he is lame.

Your touch of seduction has hints of rose wine
An intoxicating fragrance with notes, sublime
A symphony of madness - subtle but yet divine
This leads to a trail of vine-like tendrils climb.

He says he has- been saved by the power of love.
He now is a devotee who'll nearer need stray
He-too does blossom and flower only her way
Whispering such as the lonely hair bells, foxglove.

Says love is a scent bottle; I shall free its stopper
And darling, I'll not do anything improper.
My ardour for you henceforth will grow and grow.
Not as brambles or plain savagery to overthrow.

Such a bouquet as yours frequented Eden long ago
So I shall not sing like some fake impresario
If-need's-I-shall-let your scent wanders graciously free.
Down ancient trails, you've been haunting long before me.