A perfect bath,
I ran the perfect bath, with the water left
just shy of too hot so my skin coppered
beneath the soft velvet of new-born petals;
clapping and cupping the water, I let it fall,
so its playful sound brought mum kneeling
once more besides me, watching, smiling,
a warmed towel ready;
while the high ceiling made radio songs
sound slightly sad and far away, and
the immersion tank hissed and bubbled
as it protested its emptying.
I found again the peace I once knew.