Bathtubs can
be small, compact.
They may be round
or square,
Or oval or
rectangular,
Or have an
odd-shaped flair.
They can be
large enough for two
Or even for
a gathering!
Some come
with jets for bubbles,
A trick that
helps with lathering.
Some like a
tub with claw feet
And rustic,
calming charm.
And some
like built-in ledges
On which to
rest one’s arm.
Some favor a
colorful bathtub,
Like pink,
or orange, or blue.
Some like
tubs deep, others shallow.
They’re at
their best brand new.
A bathtub,
like an armchair,
Should be
comfortable and cozy—
A place one
can escape to
When life seems
less than rosy.
President
Taft had a bathtub built
(His other
was too puny)—
Seven feet
long, 41 inches wide;
Prob’ly
soaked till his skin turned pruny.
In the olden
days, a big washtub
Was all that
most folks got.
A bar of
soap, a scrubby rag—
No, fancy it
was not.
Bathtubs
have improved through time
(To make for
a better soak)
And even can
be elegant—
For bath time
is no joke.
But even if
a humble tub,
One can
revel in its filling;
Sink down a
spell—and steam and dream,
If only you
are willing.
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