Lilacs

The smell of lilac brings me back to me,
Rejecting all the little aches and worries
That turn me from my own reality
Into a strange dystopic place that scurries
All happiness away; the lilac blooms
Restore that stolen joy and make the sky
Which threatened thunder and a thousand glooms
A masterpiece of white on blue. And I,
The passive actor in this alteration
Know only then the calm I wish I felt
In every problematic situation.
Oh, where are the lilacs that I smelt?
Where have they gone? The light is faltering
And needs once more the lilacs' altering.