Washing The Day Away
Time to wash the day away,
To let the water unknot both
My shoulders and my mind,
Kneading away the hours
Of accumulated tension,
Soothing the angry red grooves
Where my bra has been,
And other marks I cannot see.
Time to wash the day away,
Exhale as the stresses and strains
Of work go down the plughole
With the stubble and the suds,
Chased away by coconut bubbles
Or night-blooming jasmine,
A splash of the exotic
To banish November’s chill.
Time to wash the day away,
To slow down the tempo
With soft, lilting vocals
And acoustic guitars,
Far removed from the
Fast, punchy baselines
I used to jolt myself awake
Eleven long hours ago.
Time to wash the day away,
To join in with those lilting vocals
That pose no threat
To my tired voice box,
No instructions to give now,
No need to project,
Just this quiet little singsong
All to myself.
Time to wash the day away,
To take refuge in a sanctuary
Of warm water and white tiles,
Let my world shrink
To the size of a bathroom,
And draw a line between
My work and myself,
A most important distinction.
Time to wash the day away,
To let fast-flowing spray
Slow my mind to a trickle,
Replacing madness with mellowness,
Chaos with calm,
Restoring me to myself once more,
Until tomorrow,
When it all begins again.
