Baby Bath, Christmas Eve, poetry by Gaynor Kane at
Colin Maynard

Baby Bath, Christmas Eve

Baby Bath, Christmas Eve

written by: Gaynor Kane



The day is decorated with crystals,
smells of pine and cinnamon,
as I cradle you at ten weeks old.

I’m still fearful of scalding your sensitive skin
so you float in tepid water at the kitchen sink
not a bit fazed by the grey plastic basin.

Instead, you are pink and plump and giggling
at bubbles I blow above you
from a scooped pyramid of soap suds

that pop on the pane
leaving an impression
of a rainbow.

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