my wife runs hot water, mirrored glass steams,
i like it warm but her temperatures extreme:
sauna she savours, she’s first to bathe,
when cooled a little, my toe dip gets brave.
my overweight body causes waterline rise,
no candles, no scents, no budoir surprise.
she shaves her legs with my old razor blade,
our dialogue echoes off tiles post-war made.
saggy skins soaped down, pedestrian this tryst,
her short grey hair curls in this domestic mist.
sometimes jest-joking, hear sardonic laughs,
occasionally cross-silent these partners in bath.
fresh pyjamas, clean bodies, books to be read,
hard old horse hair mattress in an oversize bed…
but when lights go out warm hands still reach,
both bodies radiate, warm blessings leach.