Over a century ago
you commenced trading,
I deduce from these photos;
with sepia fading.
My gaze, it finds yours
but yours doesn't mine,
alas, we're fractured in two
by a fissure in time.
Sensible hemlines,
waistcoats and ties;
your buttoned existence,
lends pride to your eyes.
I feel I know you -
the person you were,
a purveyor of perfume,
dear madam, dear sir.
You'll never know me
nor imagine my world
but I stand here as tribute
to how the future unfurled.
Your chosen vocation
giving the gift of fine scent
has endured to this day
dear lady, dear gent.
But since your beginnings,
a colossus emerged...
a greedy behemoth,
how sales have surged!
Gone is the era
of graces and airs
your tailor-made service...
now nothing compares.
So wherever you're lying
I hope its at rest
dear mister, dear miss,
you couldn't have guessed.
There is no reverse,
our cards have been played,
and like a whisper of perfume,
we too, will fade.
