Something

Standing on the platform, bitter air breezing through my lungs,
But there's something else, something sweeter,
It's your scent. I forget myself momentarily.

When the air is icy, you are warm, skin on skin,
Holding hands, human gloves, poetic moon and stars
The canvas to these months, a hundred healing days.

I can cope, I'm no clinger, I have a life beside him -
But when his scent is in the air, coming from nowhere,
It stirs something in me, something I can't explain.