Small piece of white, marbled soap, <br />Sitting neatly beneath the china bowl. <br />Still and untouched, it rests on a clean, pressed towel. <br />Small piece of soap, symmetrical, angled and dry, <br />Sharing space with a small scrubbing brush, <br />Soft bristled and worn. <br />Small piece of soap, shadowed by a wooden stand, <br />Stark and stained by simple washing, <br />And silent shaving. <br />Small piece of soap, passed from hand to hand, <br />Used to cleanse, yet situated in a room where death lingered <br />In quiet nights disturbed by the coughing of consumptive lungs. <br />Small piece of soap, used before dinner, <br />Lovingly prepared for a close family <br />Keeping the cold at bay by dreaming of distant lands. <br />Small piece of soap, shared by motherless children, <br />Who reached beyond their isolation, <br />Letting their imaginations live to touch our future.<br /><br />Teedy Dawn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/soap-by-the-washbowl/
