The Lavatory

One drop, two drops
Another makes it three
The monitor screen blurring
And that’s the final warning; the red flag
Flood walls cannot hold any longer.
The four walls of the lavatory
Made of concrete
Yet so sentimental, melt
Like an iceberg at the Equator
Not once, nor twice but
Every time her barriers wear thin
And the tears gush out
Into the pale wash basin
Like the monsoon floods,
Listen to her silent weeping
Absorbing her pain
Into its thick plaster
To be concealed from the world
Until the lachrymal have dried out
Till the next time…..