For months after your death I spent hours sitting on our bed and resisted the temptation to open your cupboard, fearing that if I did so, some more of your precious aroma would disappear - and’, hence, symbolically my memories too would inexplicably blur and fade away.
I needn’t have worried.
I admit - I tried to blot you out, initially. But, I’m glad, you proved to be resilient. Because with the passage of time not only are you clearer to me - but dearer, in every respect.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem