A Whiff of Carbolic

I sniff at my hands and oh! Such scent, such ecstasy, a memory presented to my nose. But where do we find this block of adorable redness? It was sold in every shop: lovable carbolic soap, an aromatic compound, so ruddy, so redolent. But this is now so rare; it merely presents itself to my pleading mind - a psyche that puts forth its arms, a plea to a storehouse of valuable memory, a whiff of an echo, an echo of an odour, an odour that's been sent. So who remembers, recalls a soap that's not so round, bright pink, cream, blue or white, that isn't sold in pretty-pretty paper? We do so wish to sniff, sniff, sniff at an odour that's so old. (3 Oct 2023)