Staring one last time,

Into that tiny silvered mirror,

Where the off-white paint peeled,

At the edges.

I had shaved there a million times.

Smiling softly at my reflection,

As the razor ploughed those rough patches,

You had just complained about.

Remembering, just moments before,

Your knee had been the most wondrous mountain,

I had ever climbed.

Then there were the valleys.

Your stormy seas.

But now,

I carefully removed,

All the lids,

From those white

Plastic,

Containers,

That you could

Never

Remove

Anyway.

Childproof.

But not Foolproof.