Hmmn, mmn... This began in a land far, far away There, in a prison soiled and sad Knelt figures in prayer... Stung by hunger and cold They covered their noses Glanced round and wondered At the story yet to unfold.. One man would survive That bitter winter of the soul Don't even know his name But he wore a Crown on his head An enduring mark of his fame Then one day, as my father lay In the Bitter winter of his own life That Crowned man appeared... He listened to my father for a few He was complaining of smells (Phantosmia really is real) He told my father a story Of a prison that smelled too Of how they'd prayed Asked, "Could I pray here too?" Always a man of prayer Even at the end My father nodded I listened a little dispiritedly to what he said, "Dear God, Thank you for this dear man. We know he is in your heart and in your plan. Please bring the Scent of Roses Like you did once before. Amen." My father smiled then As the Crowned man turned And disappeared And suddenly from my bedside seat Wafted the most beautiful scent Scent of Roses, Ever.... Rather disbelievingly I thought He must have Spritzed the Air! But I don't really think he did. No I don't think he did. Now and then The most beautiful scents Seem to follow me around And I think, this must be What it's like to be loved To be found and followed... Found And Followed By Love Hmmn, mmm, mm...
