by Ruth C. Mullaney
A new cake of soap is a thing of delight,
Its smoothness and shape, a form just right
There's something brand new, a promise of fresh start
In its unmarred state bringing joy to the heart.
The lettering there is sharp and clear
In its way a sculpture (transient, but here,)
The moment of newness to treasure not mar
Is what we can do on opening the bar.
So much for the new, now consider the old...
Seems better to melt away doing its job
Than be carried along an unsightly blob.
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