If I had known I would have made more lather.
Smell of ivory soap, clinical, clean, nothing extra.
We grab these plastic things and push out the slippery stuff
Sprinkles, then gushes of water.
We mold it through our fingers, our longing.
Clinching the lower palm, bumps on the top of our wrists
We make lather.
Smiles, happiness, memories of yesterday
Lather.
We claim all of it, the white ephemeral transformative spiritual foam.
The smell.
The fading.
We relish in what we create
Lather.
Brian Ragsdale Writer.com 
Beautiful imagery… I could almost smell the clean scent of the foamy spirituality bubbling out of your words! 🙂
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Thank you, it is always nice to hear from my readers…..I can still evoke the smell of ivory scent, it must be stored very deeply in my amygdala…….even though I haven’t used it in years.
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