one place to the next

a thought or two
surfaces,
it's a scent, a whiff
of something
in the air,
from the past, perfume
perhaps,
a flower
outside the window.
skin,
lips, her breath.
these thoughts are
like
thin dreams found
in daylight.
clinging for just
a moment,
in passing, in going
from one place
to the next.
funny how life clings
as it slowly
disappears, as it should,
to begin
what's next.