Stooping slightly, she drew a laboured breath
one hand on the pantry door, steadying herself;
one hand on my shoulder; 'Are you there? '
I smelt the talcum powder and the toothpaste
on her breath, and the faintest smell of
mothballs on her famous Sunday coat,
and her lavender perfume that made me sneeze and
choke, when I was young.
How many years has she come here like this,