Fragrance

Have the living
already died
or the dead ones
beginning to live?
Maybe it is just a dream

Where are the words
that give us life
and the embraces
to soothe our suffering
or the surprising caresses
to carry us on the ice of living?

Those who left us
now wrap us
with the wind of their sighs
And the air we breath
are their kisses
just as the rain drops
their caresses

Perhaps
the fragrance of the flowers
are their words