(Have snipped a little)
Its silky green fern paint
with silver-faced tiles enclosed
a square space where Palmolive soap
aroma mingled with M&S’ magnolia bubbles.
To lie swamped in scent with the wee window
open to the berry-laden garden.
Cecil and Bessie shared a wooden bench –
Grandad in the sunny half and Gran, cool
in the shade as if it was bespoke.
I could hear them planning the next
evening’s meal and feel their words
reverberate. I peered through steam
at the row of Fenjal bath oil, Brylcreem,
Harmony hair spray and peppermint foot lotion –
motley sentries on a glass shelf.
Wrapped in a thick emerald towel
I’d de-mist the shaving mirror and see
my grandad’s foamy face turn
into smooth handsome features
which my gran would giggle at when
he manicured her feet.
I squirt Jif around the enamel tub
and zap myself from reminiscence
which will never evaporate.