The Scent of Roses

Daylight lingers in the air
Like the scent of roses
And yet there are no flowers here
Just damp sad tombstone paving slabs below
And above, the death pale sky
Bloated with promised snow
Yet neither is their snow.
Here darkened office fronts squat
Staring through sightless, lidless windows,
And inside a lonely cleaner cleans                   
Buzzing like a drunken wasp.

But still the scent of roses haunts my mind,
And longer days and brighter moons
And music dances in the breeze,
Through open doors
Through kinder trees,
And we sit,
Watched by watching bees
Yes, we forget times like these

Daylight is remembered by the air
Like the scent of roses
And yet there are no roses here
But love?
Does the lonely cleaner clean,
Or does he wander in his mind
Down paths that twist and wind, and wind
To things he thought he left behind
To roses that he should have given…
Hearts that should have received?

Or does the cleaner clean,
Obedient to his human queen?