One of the many foolish
joys of being an old
man married to a young
woman is allowing
oneself at last small discoveries
of the vast treasure horde
of lovely feminine things,
like a delicious afternoon soak
in an overfilled tub fragrant
with scents of organic
lavender oil and rosemary,
buoyant with epsom salts
as the steam rises through
the open window into
a windy blue spring.
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