In Dior's realm, a fragrant tale, A poet of scents, Francis Kurkdjian, prevails. From opulent perfumes, a detour he takes, To babies he creates, gentle scents to make. Bonne Étoile, a fragrance so light, With notes of pear, cotton, and rose that ignite. An eau de senteur, a water so pure, Whispers of innocence, a scent to endure. Inspired by chubby cheeks, soft and round, A smell simple and natural, profound. For children, a fragrance delightful and mild, To nurture their senses, like a dreamy child. Luxury abounds, with a price quite grand, But a lifelong appreciation, scent commands. In Dior's embrace, a baby's scent blooms, Swathed in Kurkdjian, a fragrant heir looms.
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