Draw me a bath,

For it is five in the morning

And I have been standing in the rain.

Watch me from the window

Then come outside, wrap me in a towel,

Take my hand and lead me someplace warm.

Strip me down,

Naked and little,

And wash away this gray, this sadness

That has settled over me.

Pick me up gently,

For I am a limp marionette who has lost her strings

And sit me in the steamy water.

I’ll look up at you then,

Outstretch my hand,

Beckon you to come to me.

You’ll wrap yourself around me,

Cup my face and look into my eyes.

There, you will coax out the light,

Drain away the rain and tears and suds.

You’ll wash my hair,

For the gray has tangled itself there too,

So you’ll dig your hands into my scalp

And lather me up until I’m white again.

You’ll close the curtain

And our world will shrink down to the size of the tub,

Population, two,

Me and you

And the gray will slither down the drain,

Away

Away