Anima forma corporis

I know as only animals do
the scent of you.
Not the sweet smelling soaps, expensive cologne, nor the freshly laundered clothes—
I remember none of those. 
I know only as animals do
the scent of you.

Bright and odiferous as the waning sun 

Played into a song 

By the orchestra of my senses;
Excited by a tune so rare and new 
So acutely did it learn each note;
Each wafting reign—highs and lows,
To the mid-tones

Of secrets told through the eyes alone—

I know as only animals do
the scent of you.
But how can it be true,
Separated by miles and years,
I did just now trace it passing through?