Their Complexity
In her dressing ritual
my Agnes posed at
a floor length mirror…
stroked perfume…
Caron’s Bellodgia…
to her wrists and throat
carnation redolent
with deep layered notes
of sandalwood and jasmine.
I’d gaze at my Agnes
the two of us reflected
mother…child…
Then my Sim would appear
with his father aroma
of pipe tobacco…
and Old Spice nutmeg
cinnamon and cedar.
We’d stand a family portrait
framed in the moment
‘til restless I’d break free
from the heady blend
of their complexity.
Bonnie Marshall
Proem... 
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