I have a bar of soap
given to me three years ago
by my beautiful, no longer
daughter in law. Now she is
my friend. This rose scented
soap which I have never opened
is beautifully wrapped in
dusty red paper, delicately
decorated with cherry blossoms
and banded in gold. It sits
on the dresser near my bed.
Each night, when I lie down,
The powdery rose aroma brings
to mind my grandmother's rosewater.
I see a single magenta
petal, the fairy fine veins
in it, feel the baby skin softness.
The hint of roses I breathe
brings all this to mind as it
touches the very back
of my tongue with the
faint taste of raspberries.
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