A Letter To My Shower
Dear The Shower,
“Don’t touch my stuff!” she yells
“It’s my turn for the T.V.” he tells
I’ve learned to share, compromise
but with you can I be selfish, greedy
I can be happy, sad, or feel nothing at all
You don’t expect,
You don’t judge
I reflect, I sing, I cry
You take the dirt, the grime and the pain
I watch as it runs down my legs,
slipping past my toes,
down the drain
A tabula rasa, a clean slate
as I venture into a new day,
uncertain of whatever stress, sadness,
or joy that may come
But I know that you will always be there
to take whatever I may bring
Yours truly,
Vala
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