She used to place behind each ear
a little dab of this sweet smelling scent.
It is not till I was much older and all grown up
I realised the reason behind this and what is meant.

She (my grandmother) had a secret kind of life
You could see the magic behind her eyes.
She had some stories to tell if she could
Stories that were placed in a locked disguise.

She loved Devon, the fresh sweet smell of Devon
Its fields full of mauve sweet violets for miles
Miles and miles of purple haze and the blue sea
I have memories of those stories and her smiles.

Devon Violets in little fancy bottles
with a puffer dangling from a tiny string
Beige lace, china cups with tea leaves around the rim
Tea leaf reading stories and the hope this would bring.

I wish I could hold her hand, her lovely warm hand
To keep me company just for one more day.
Now I am sitting in my silence with my dreams
just wondering what if I had that chance what I might say.