I am using up what we could not bear
to throw away in house clearance:
the smell of your chic shower gel
is rosemary for remembrance.
We guess you took pleasure in its fragrance
but never got to ask. And never gave
this hand-made honey, eaten now
but never spread on toast to savour
at your garden window. Those plants held dear,
whose names I never did recall
from one told visit to the next:
almost to the end you could name them all.
v.2021
