traces of steam a dancing shadow
fogging mirror hiding my morning
i grab a box from closet; it's tissue
wipe condensation become smudge
where's my windex, murmur my mind
i end up cleaning instead of shaving
i even notice one burned out lightbulb
it didn't stop there; even dirt on my tub
my wrap-around towel came off from me
button finally tired of supporting weight
i couldn't believe i did a lot in few minutes
now i have to shave and show my teeth
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem