When I Was Young In The Bath

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When I was young in the bath,
I lay on my back and tried to stretch my toes
To the other side of the tub.
My head gently rested on a worn-out washcloth.

When I was young in the bath,
I was the official director of hundreds of
Barbie doll tragedy plays.
The rubber octopus always ended up eating everyone.

When I was young in the bath,
I dunked my head underwater and swam
Under the two-inch waves.
My mom sang The Yellow Submarine.

When I was young in the bath,
I hated the white murkiness the Dove soap
Gave to the once crystal-clear water.
Making it so I couldn’t see the shrunken Barbies that lay underwater.

When I was young in the bath,
My mom used to thoroughly wash my hair
While I quietly sat still, enjoying the massage.
My hair always either smelled like watermelon or strawberry afterwards.

Then my fingers and toes turned to raisins,
And the water turned to ice.
But I always left the bath
With that fresh-as-a-daisy feeling.

Cuddled in with my flannel towel on mom’s bed,
I lay back once again with my head on a towel,
And close my eyes to savor the syrupy warmth,
The silky residue of the bath.






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