After Barbara’s funeral
you asked,
“If I died first
what would you keep of mine?”
I couldn't answer, apart from the quip
"ten bob it'll be me goes anyhow".
Afterwards though I did think
long and hard
and it would be your smell
I'd be lost without,
the trace of No 5
on your pillowcase.
Indelible as your fingerprint,
closer than your smile, yes
I'd need the smell of you.
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