(For Marissa Lingen)
Elves smell like edges,
Like elements, like weather,
Like memories, like breezes,
Like something loved once long ago
And long forgotten,
Like snowdrops, like lilacs,
Like burning leaves, like mulled wine,
Like libraries, like mischief,
Like lonely dawn on the water’s edge,
Like waking and remembering joy,
Like dancing a night that is a hundred years,
Like hope stirring in wildness;
But never a cup of tea, a purring cat,
Email, hugs, or buttered toast.
31st May 2006
