Verse from the past

Rummaging through an old purse, I came across a forgotten piece of paper with a poem I had written two years back in a languid mood.

After-bath

Aroma,
Heady,
Sweet smell of lemon grass;

Fresh,
Fragrant,
Water dripping off my hair;

Mild,
Cottony,
dusky light filters through lace;

Gentle,
Small,
Anklets chime as I tap my feet;

Rhythmic,
Indigo,
I stretch over printed sheets;

I breathe the moment of stillness,
My senses savor faraway whispers,
I sleep.