My Perfumer

My perfumer proclaims a lovely flower,
She confesses it beautifies the brainpower.
This smell is an aroma too furious,
Of obvious fame, and in all categories.
The small and fierce please us with it,
These children of surprise still benefit.
The flower of the perfume is a plant
Of the wild. The perianth steals your grandaunt
That she loosens it from the ground
And takes the aroma of loveliness around.
She is a perfumer of talent and wild taste,
Where on Earth is she based?

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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