The smell of old paper.

Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons

The smell of old paper

Like sweet vintage nobility

Or the nostalgia of gentle humility

Or the calm of cinnamon tea

And a sun-kissed afternoon’s serenity.

The scent of time-worn paper

Like the enduring beauty of old age

Or sweet simplicity hidden among reams of verbiage

Or the note of perfection before tea descends into bitterness

And the mellow contentment after tempestuous happiness.

The charm of moth-eaten paper

Like the lingering scent on the inside of a woman’s wrist

Or the odour of sweat and sun-soaked flowers on a summer tryst

Or the promise of tales that will never be

In a dour and limited reality.

The aroma of pale paper

Like the uncertain smile of a coy child

Or the eventual elegance of a youth once wild

Or the freshness of the bark where it once dwelt

All those miracles in this paper I have smelt.