A telephone ringing
Down in the hall
Takes but a moment to answer
But an absence of minutes
From a play-time in the bath
Creates a long, empty space of waiting
Of wanting you
Of needing you to come back
And time enough for her
To slide slowly down
Soft and slippery
Soapy from the bubbles
From the clear air above
To a short watery rest
Below the surface
Beneath the noise
The quiet, calm nothingness
And to breathe the warm liquid
For just enough time
To fall asleep forever
Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012
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