A STUDY IN VIOLET

A STUDY IN VIOLET This treasure house of objets d’art Littered with plots and storylines A room encrusted with jewels of history Inviolate – and undisturbed. Over there, a military tunic Blue – and in such fine condition. Pale lapels perhaps too remote or innocent Of its vile ‘let them have it’ past. Here, an abandoned symphony Black notes pebbledash the page. Written for that ancient violin, no… Viol. Late Belle Epoch I think. That leather book I recognise An ancient asset register. And with such work of reference Identify - a little more. A philtre or monk’s cure perhaps. Or poison, used to sway an empire. Something forensic science may analyse This phial – let it keep its secret. Here, a scroll. Homeric tragedy? Greek, according to the words. Those old strange symbols, faded now A ‘Phi’ or letter ‘P’ – I’m sure. I cannot touch nor be considered A robber, loose in a dusty tomb. Caught in the torchlight, gold in hand Say ‘Fie!’ – or let him go. This treasure is too much for anyone To really own. To hide away. Bequeathed to me but never really mine. Something Auntie Violet always knew.