How true could it be, that we smell what we choose?
Then, how tragic to avoid, all the beauty we could lose.
If the sense of smell, were borne of all the eye can see,
Then the fragrance of beauty, should remain forever free.
If the sense of smell, were to come from things we hear,
Why choose the critic’s rant, if the voice of nature contains no fear.
Freedom to be wherever you may, is freedom to smell what you will,
Why not breathe the smell of roses, as we swallow bitter pills.
When those unwanted pills, leave us with a bitter taste,
It might be wise to pause, and consider what we waste.
We often have the opportunity, to make our lives more pleasant,
When we don’t embrace the smell of bad, but let the smell of good be present.
If only the sense of smell, could be as the sense of touch,
Then to each their own, to beautify their world so much.
When all they have to do, is look right under their noses,
And do all the things they can, to Live As The Smell of Roses.