Amber Noir - Will Gibbons
The smell of tobacco and salt,
sun-kissed skin, sawdust
steeped in amber resin.
Sticky, steaming.
He never quits on what he loves—
a handful of things, but he loves them deeply,
as roots can go.
I wish to capture this scent and trap it in a bottle,
embalmed forever, sealed in wax,
so I can press it to my chest, inhale
when nothing else
is left.
About the Creator
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Comments (2)
I love the way scent is tied to memory here. I often find scents bring back memories.
I wish we could actually do that! It would be so nice 🙂↕️🙂↕️ Loved your poem!