Nimitr Parfum Prissana 2018

Through winter's chill, with each thrill,
Across the woods and lakes, so still,
Seven hills, my journey's song,
As I ride, feeling strong.

In a village small, I stop to rest,
To fill my belly, be my guest,
But still, I yearn for the scent,
Of incense, leather, so heaven-sent.

Your breath, a warm, fragrant mist,
Upon my skin, where memories twist,
Leather saddles, boots worn thin,
Echoes of journeys, where I've been.

Spices in the dawn's first light,
By mossy meadows, pure and bright,
Among the branches, fallen, laid,
Where we played, where we stayed.

Heavy eyes, soul seeks peace,
Tobacco's warmth, sweet release,
And in the midst of dreams I keep,
Vanilla whispers, soft and deep.

In Nimitr's realm, secrets unfold,
Incense, leather, mossy hold,
Centuries old, a tale untold,
Where fragrant memories, ever bold.

FJ