Dad’s dressing gown
remained exactly where
he last placed it,
on a shiny brass hook
on his bedroom door
where it stayed
in its deepest blue state,
hanging lifeless, long after
his fate had been sealed.
Long after his unexpected
demise, and my eyes
had lost all focus for life,
I would wear it.
Wrap myself in its embrace ,
close my lids, then breathe in
the essence of him.
That familiar cologne,
bringing him back
for a few precious moments,
before the sense of loss
would kick in with vigour
and tear me apart
like a ripped seam.