From the back of the top dresser drawer.

That violet perfume.

My Grandfather found it
In the back of the top dresser drawer.
He was cleaning out some of my Grandmother’s things
Years after she had gone.

Years before he would be gone.

That first dab of perfume
Lingers in the middle
Of my past.

Why had it taken so long to find it?
Open it?

Passed to me
I would wear it as a child
And imagine
Violets were my Grandmother’s favourite flowers.

This was her favourite perfume.

Left behind
In my mind.

I felt closer
To her
As she now had a smell
In the constructs of my memory.

But what I thought was true
Was an imagined form.

For all I know
She hated this perfume.
Perhaps an unwanted present.

Or maybe she never got the chance
To smell the bouquet.

Whatever the answer
I’ll never know.

I’m just glad
That from the back of the top dresser drawer it was found.
Used.
Loved.

It lingered
But it didn’t stay.