Summer

When sweat collects

under eyes,

above lips,

between folded flesh,

pastes together two bodies,

a shower is a welcome romance.

To stand under the mechanised cloud,

a naked peafowl eager to begin its dance,

your body grows tender

to every whisper of running water,

glancing droplets,

sparse, rousing to closeted wind,

a privilege it is to shiver inside closed quarters.

Soaps, scrubs, shampoo,

you use every means,

to delay the clothed heat,

allow foaming water to slide, glide, 

inch its way down your spine,

tailbone, calves and then to toes.

You let chemicals, herbs alike assault you,

desperate to forget time,

until you can't.

A heavy hand turns the knob,

wrapped in a threadbare towel,

and soon cotton clothes,

you brace yourself - the day begins.

The above poem is for the NaPoWriMo2022. Day 21. The prompt is from @literarychills prompts for NaPoWriMo2022 - a shower.