Scented in the midst of noise

I feel the staggered wind blow voice

There seems to be a reason  high

so low it stretches across the sky

Now I know I smell for sure

This aroma it keeps pulling the lure

Be as though It might have been

It screams me closer hence I see

A sight of food so well cooked

It must be a fragrance of Italian mood

The stomach turns and coils hard

as the scent roars louder I must.

~Venus