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.’


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