An empty tube of toothpaste
lies desolate upon the bathroom sink.
While fragrant bars of dyed soap
turn the filthy skin a healthy pink.
A roll of soft, white toilet paper
sits silently beside the colored tile.
Two fuzzy towels cover a naked bar,
waiting to join the dirty clothes pile.
The silver mouth of the quiet faucet
vomits a refreshing liquid gold.
And the ugly, worn handles beside it
lose their printed directions of hot and cold.
The bathroom's a highway for human traffic,
and the floor feels the warmth of mortal feet.
But the busiest place within this room
is often the throne of the toilet seat.