The little French soap

in my shower on the cruise ship

 smelling so

 innocently sweet ;

a fragrance of luxury and absolute contentment.

I imagine it must be how angels smell.


The lazy smell

of sunshine and lush tropical beauty,

 just outside my window,

 a daily touch with inner-self

 that let my heart


on butterfly wings;

the magic and mystery of the islands

merging with the fiber

of my soul.


How I longed to stay

in that compartment of peace


 that no one would notice

my absence

and that I could disappear

like my soap down the drain

or in the triangle,

with only that honeyed fragrance




But time


 slowly moved on

and for now I

must settle for memories

of the big white ship

on the bright blue Caribbean waters.


One day

I will return there

to my perfect heaven

and the little French soap

with the