Stupid Poetry Project...

It's freaking torture. -.- At least I picked all my poems already... I hope I finish by the time it's due though. I have this awesome idea that just MIGHT get me some extra points, plus it takes some problems off my back, but I don't know if I'll be able to finish it. Maybe she'll give me an extension? Yeah right. XD
Anyways, we have to put it our "Capturing a Moment" poem, which sucks. Because my poem sucks. =P But I never posted it up here, so... Here you go! ;D



Behind a Veil of Steam

A light gauze coats the transparent door of my shower,
Lazy droplets slowly inch their way down walls of glass and tile,
The temperature knob turned as far as it can go,
And scalding drops of water penetrate my sin like tiny bullets.

Tensions throughout my body which I didn't even know I possessed
Oozes out of my pores into cascades
Of shimmering water streaming down my body.
I breathe in a mist of cucumber shampoo and liquid Dove soap.

The rhythm of the water dancing on the floor,
Creating a blanket of soothing music that envelopes me like an old friend,
Muffles the noises of the evening that permeate through our house:
The sound of frying, movies playing... all extinguished by the soft pitter-pat of water.

In the shower I am alone.
No sister barging into my room unannounced,
No friends interrupting me with the shrill shriek of the telephone,
No parents nagging me about school and piano.

The water falling from the shower head is no ordinary tap water,
But rather a magical fluid infused with a mysterious power that entrances me.
The sparkles of falling water mesmerizing me into reflection,
Allowing thoughts tumbling in somersaults to soften into a dewy mellowness.

Within this world of glass, I catch every thought in my mind
Before they vanish like the ephemeral flashes of fireflies.
Then I release them into the world, let them drift away,
Up towards heaven like softly curling vapors of steam.

Within these walls, I find myself:
A writer, contemplating the notions tinkling through my mind like a well-known melody.
A child, remembering days on the playground monkey bars, climbing looming trees.
A friend, thinking of those who have come and gone, cherishing the ones with me now.

I am tucked away in this small three-by-four pocket of time,
Away from frantic deadlines and countless things to do.
The last of the water flows into a swirling spiral down the drain t my feet,
Having cleansed not only my body, but my mind and soul,
Leaving the bare essence that is me.