Bubblebath

Ground by the rototiller
mundanity rolls out routine
but thanks to the painkiller
hurt is washed down clean.

Inside this imitation sea
or pond confined in metal
spumy rejuvenation spree
fully restores lost mettle.

Roughed up by brick and mortar
for some respite I implore
while the surface gets hotter
I dive at the chance to explore.

Down lies a different world
liquid dimension of silence
this reality is much preferred
over the regular of compliance.

Bubbles caressing the vigour
and outline of this figure
froth is fleeting breakwater
until it is popped by the marauder.

Time is a buccaneer reminder
wave robbing me of my treasure
wrinkly grip fails to hold tighter
time is up and so's my leisure.

Out of my element a pleasure
it bends time's linear measure
with fragrant and savoury foam
cooked spaghetti hard to comb.

Memory which became a ritual
entered with swift acrosome
a parturition to relive instinctual
salvaged and repaired this flotsam.

When the day is old and out the gate
a bath always lifts the worldly weight
- ''Fizzy upthrust be my blindfold'' -
soft drink worthy of refined gold.

Finding the floral taste unique
taking in liquor as I dive
embraced by currents of mystique
surprised at the sea bed come alive.

Land strips emerge reborn
as a mirage island once torn
plucked from reality and into the blue
a voyage I had to come through.

Dead calm replaced by waves
where salt and sugar merge
at the estuary's tidal bore
joy oozes out from every pore.