Tangled in the black and white
nothing seems certain
once where your fragrance guided me to such a sweet place
now the ache of not knowing leads the reins
I took for granted the littlest of things not knowing how they could change
not ever questioning the possibility
a rose with its enchanting perfume
standing in the aisle looking at one thing and another not being rushed
going to your house without calling you first
sitting by you smelling your perfume
knowing what day it was
The garden of black and white was never grey.
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