Soft cotton balls

Await, in the

Medicine cabinet

To rinse, to dab

To cleanse

The porcelain tiles

In the bathroom;

Strange

Confidants when

You’re not making

Sense,

The smell of

Hospitals,

Sterilized

And pools with

Ramified chlorine

Her lovely dress

Of spider threads,

Simplistic

Yet pristine,

Silver chains and

Talismans, crowns

Of asphodel

A glass of warm,

Happy milk

To sleep it will

Inveigle,

And the silent hum,

Of a life

Humdrum

Until it went

Askew,

The little winged figurine

On a child’s nightstand,

And her voice

Saying

Angels are watching over you…

© 2020 Veronica Lejano

Comments

Veronica Lejano (author) on September 11, 2020:

Hi Lorna, thanks for your observation and appreciation :)

Lorna Lamon on September 11, 2020:

There are deep messages within the lines of this poignant poem.