In silent air, it softly speaks — a tale of roses, woods, and peaks.
No voice it has, yet all hearts hear — a memory wrapped in something near.
It dances through the morning breeze — like secrets whispered through the trees.
A single drop upon the skin — can wake the soul that sleeps within.
Not just a smell, but soul’s attire — a touch of warmth, a spark, a fire.
A scent can heal, can charm, can stay — long after words have slipped away.
So wear it proud, your scented art — a perfume is the voice of heart.
Unseen, yet felt — a fragrant spell, a story only you can tell.