I still love patchouli

I dreamed

I was standing by a stream 

in wafts of patchouli air

and, as I gazed at a far off wooden bridge,  

I appeared there, much younger - 

staring back at my olden self.

And I remember thinking:  

I hope she likes me – I haven’t changed . . . 

all that much.

For one thing:  

I still love patchouli . . . it would seem.

Though, I later realized:  

my little clay fragrance burner 

sat extinguished on the stand beside my bed

and had, I gathered, insinuated its latest scent  

upon my mind – in covert, exotic wisps.

Nevertheless, I do – still love patchouli:  

as the vial of oil plopped atop 

my trinket box, indubitably, attests.

I still love stinky, pink patchouli. 

The girl on the bridge would like that about me . . .
At least . . . that's my best guess.

Note:  published:  Verse Afire (Ontario Poetry Society) May-Aug. 2015 Edition.
  
Patchouli, a whitish pink herb that is part of the mint family, is a common ingredient in East Asian incense and oils. Both patchouli oil and incense were wildly popular during the youth movements of the 1960s and 1970s in Canada, the United States and Europe.

photo:  The Wooden Bridge in Nitobe Garden, Vancouver, BC – W. Bourke 

© 2013 Wendy Bourke