Clouds in my Bathwater

Clouds in my bathwater

from the window reflection

wave slowly to and fro as I control

the water’s motion.

 

A Latin ballad

takes me through the portal

to relax with a lover

on a foreign coast.

 

I stay away awhile

transfixed on the floating pane,

a whole romance novel transpires

from beginning to end.

 

Lavender-candle fields

recapture my senses

while I am still dancing

atop the glass ripples.

 

My prince is real, with flaws,

but happiness still,

like blossom-petals in the wind,

about us falls

 

because in every version

with the one

who has yet to surface,

though neither perfect,

 

our love simply is.

 

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