Hi, Amy:
Happy Birthday again, NicknamedBob!
In a choice twixt poetry and potpourri.
I'll have to opt for poetry.
The scents that please me aren't of
cedar, roses or sandal wood.
Though if they please you, that is good.
I'm a Retrosexual kind of male.
Set in my ways and somewhat crass.
Who likes the scent of fresh cut grass.
Well tended leather and coffee when I wake.
Prepared to work in the elements. Hard to fake.
The waft of gasoline, fresh pine and honest sweat.
Under skies of blue, gray and raw, sleeting gales.
Even sudden summer Monsoons and downpours.
Not the sour kind from office cubicles galore.
I'll not apologize if my thinkings make you snore.
Jack.
