A row of books, leather spines crumbling
but clinging to yellowed pages, a whiff
of eau de library stacks
A fur coat, pelts aligned but becoming
disorganized, the hides waging
disputes over property lines
A cedar chest, void of contents,
key taped fast inside the lid, mourning
the long-absent trousseau
A worn and faded album – big band, jazz?
gramaphonic stereophonic vinyl tinged
with the slight perfume of mothballs
A silver platter, blackened with tarnish
amongst greening brass candlesticks and
every-paling silk bouquets
These things
are just things but once were lives,
some cast away, some stolen, some lost
waiting to be found again

by Melissa Kro.

via Daily Prompt: Perfume