perfume bottles, hair clips a waft of potpourri lavender the grandkids played in the drawers of the large vanity mirror and she'd tell stories of suitors who'd take her dancing admire her thin waist, dark hair lilac bathing suit, her smile
the dress maker next door made her clothes, at eighteen a dress for a ball, a shy grin for the photographer
if you need her to smile now you point to frame sitting on her shelf amongst the violet knick-knacks, and ask "were you a model?" she'll laugh like she's eighteen and dancing again
