Perfume Trail
Only memories shreds remain.
A tinge of scent,
A perfume trail,
A butterfly rustle
From watered silk.
An echo of her laughter,
A reverberated memory,
Where now silence heavy lies
And solemn shadows dwell.
Her things lie where dropped
Dust draped, abandoned,
Waiting vainly for her return.
The pots and powders
That were her beauty aids
Bereft, no more needed,
For she has gone;
To lie in her deep bed
In cool funereal earth.
Copyright P H Brookes 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
