It’s been a while since I sense your presence and yet, that may be a good sign. You are finally reunited with the love of your love. I had a dream last night. Bette, my feline friend who is named after your nickname was playing hide-and-go-seek in your house. We were in your bedroom. You had been on some health food diet and you were clearing your closet. I was shocked to see such order! Well, we know that that was not a priority for you. And why should it, when you had more important things to do, like sit by the window, sipping your coffee and watch the birds by the river, pecking at the bird feeder. Or getting all dolled up with your designer outfits; applying Lancôme or Clinique to moisten your skin; a touch of ombre à paupière and a trace of eyeliner; before running out to go shopping, applying your favourite rouge à lèvre and la pièce de résitance...three sprays of Shalimar.
Whenever you visited your scent lingered for days and any clothes you gave me, laundry could not remove that faint scent of your eau de toilette…that trace of Colombe.
In my dream, Bette snuck behind the wall of your closet and when I followed, feeling like Alice in Wonderland, I found a slight opening and there was a narrow room with odd trinkets and old furniture. Bette had adopted a small filing cabinet. I had never seen this room. You were busy washing clothes, sorting the closet and your commode. It was as if I was not really there but you sort of knew I was there…It felt like I was watching a movie of you…there was a screen separating us, preventing us from touching, hugging.
When I awakened, I realized this was another little visit. And now you know why I named my feline friend, Bette. I’m so glad you met her.
my shawl breathes
scents of Shalimar
trace of you
my shawl breathes,
reminiscence woven
you and me
scents of Shalimar
sweet scented sounds
your laughter
trace of you
faint trails of eau de toilette
remind me of you
© Tournesol ’15
A Troiku is a new haiku form created by Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai
A Haibun is a narrative (prose) followed by haiku. For more information check Haibun Thinking.
Tournesol dans un Jardin 
That is beautiful. Scents are such powerful memories. My own mother doesn’t wear perfume anymore, but when I was little, she too wore Shalimar. I can almost smell it while reading your poem 🙂
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Thanks hon, for your comments. I’m pleased this spoke to you.
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