Oh, tissues,
with your colorful
and playful boxes
that protect the soft,
gleaming white, thin sheets
that float like feathers.
You have always been there.
Patiently awaiting
a moment of dust
to tickle a nose,
or an occasion of grief
that cannot pass
without your support.
You sit, poised,
pleasantly arranged
so that I
fight little
to displace you
from your original compartment.
And not until
your absence,
your horrid replacement
by toilet paper
or paper towels,
do you ever receive
the credit deserved.
You are there for me,
fragile towel,
through sickness and in health,
through regrettable memories,
through tears of joy,
through dabs of
my mistakes wiped away,
bits of me removed.
You help me,
you comfort me,
you protect me,
gentle friend.