Bath

Time, like an ever-rolling stream, bears all its sons away;

They fly, forgotten, as a dream dies at the op'ning day.

Rub-a-dub-dub

It's time for a scrub

So through clouds of steam

To a cracked and faded cream

Bath-tub wanders frail

Aphrodite, so pale

Pink and white

She is naked as sin

Wearing nothing but a grin

And a pin in her hair

Will she be drowned?

Found

With her hair tied behind

Shoulders back

And head inclined

To the sound of music

Playing above

Bathing her in love

But darkness and fear

Will disappear like the soap

When she opens her eyes.

She throws back her dormer windows

Morning light shows Ophelia raised

From her watery grave in a brave new world.