Chanel No. 5 and the Sound of Winter – A Poem

I walked to the bus stop.downtown-street-under-snow-730727-m

The cold and biting wind

sliced

into me. It

bit

into me, it’s teeth like

needles

in my skin.

When I arrived at the bus stop,

I was alone. Then I turned and

a Lady was there. She was

dressed in a thick over coat

made of a dark wool that matched

the colour of her fur hat.

The Lady had dark black hair

that came down on her left side,

framing her face like wings.

“It’s so terribly cold.”  She said. “Are you wearing a warm winter coat?”

I looked at her and smiled.

She seemed harmless enough.

“The coat I’m wearing is wool. My parents got it for me.”

The Lady took in my appearance,

nodded as if satisfied.

“You’re parents are very wonderful. But you need a better hat.”

She smiled, as if she were filled

with a heat despite the cold.

“Do you want to smell something that will warm you up?”

Oddly enough, She pulled out

a crumpled tissue.

She held it up to my nose.

“It’s Chanel No. 5.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“There are people who say that it’s an old scent, that it makes you smell like an old fart, but then they’re the one’s who’ve forgotten about Marilyn.”

She held out the tissue again

“Smell it. It will take you back. There is a real class to it. I do hope there aren’t any additives. But it smells so lovely. It makes you remember, you know? I still remember the first time I smelled Chanel No. 5.”

I didn’t,

but the scent of it,

beautiful and distinctive,

gave me a brief blast of warmth.

It was soft and soothing,

like a blanket.

She took the tissue back

and smiled at me again.

I noticed a small tear form

at the edge of her eye.

With all of the make up that

she was wearing, it sat there

like a jewel perched on upon

black velvet. Her eyes were painted

a green so that they looked like leaves.

“Do you want a clean tissue?”

I asked her. There had to be

something that I could say

or should say to her.

She shook her head and

the tear slid down her face,

leaving a mark running though

her softly blushed cheeks.

“No, dear. It’s okay. I just want to make sure you get home safely. I think it’s coming there now, look, see? It’s a little further back?”

She pointed with a black

gloved hand into the distance.

See?” She said.

I nodded and we waited for

the bus to stop in front of us.

When it did, I got on and turned

to the well dressed Lady.

She wasn’t there.

All that was there

was the scent of

Chanel No. 5

and the sound of winter.

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About Jamieson Wolf

Jamieson an award winning, Number One Best Selling Author. He writes in many different genre's. Learn more at www.jamiesonwolf.com
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