The perfume of cleaning agents,
lavender in disguise,
bliss in the sky.
Taking a blast from the past.
Having fun chewing my thumb,
cuddled up under my favourite blanket,
in a playpen,
watching my mother clean the kitchen floor.
37 years later it still makes yours truly glee,
a tear escaping me,
mixing with the moist kitchenfloor.
‘Why are you crying?’ my girlfriend didn’t understand.
‘Because you always buy the right brand.’