When my son Sergio takes a bath, <br />The water is never still. <br />He thinks that he is in <br />a fishbowl, and dives <br />underneath the rim of the <br />bathtub. <br /> <br />After the warm bath <br />water reaches flood level stages, <br />we turn off the faucet. <br />He lies on his back, <br />two ears tucked down <br />below the surface of the water. <br /> <br />He asks that I wash his feet. <br />He throws them both <br />towards the direction of my face. <br />They are so small, like a bar of hotel soap. <br />His toes are attached to his feet, <br />five little beads of pearls. <br /> <br />He sticks out his hand <br />and I pour several drops of shampoo. <br />He throws it in <br />the air and then laughs. <br /> <br />And come to think of it, <br />I almost forgot <br />what it was like <br />to take a bath.<br /><br />Oscar Mireles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/baby-in-the-bathwater/
