if you decide to take me home,
I'm the lotion you apply in the bedroom alone.
starting with the legs and now 'round your waist, i lock in with moisture, so your skin doesn't chafe.

i stay with you all day and wash off with ease
I'm the soap you apply, I'm the washcloth you squeeze
I'm the shampoo that soothes you, the conditioner you leave-in
I'm the carpet you walk on, and the sheets that you sleep with

im the scent in your nostils when you wake up to find
the toast with the coffee, the clock telling time
the car keys, the barking of neighborhood dogs,
the exercise routine, the post-dinner jog
i complete your day and sometimes you don't notice
I'm that inspiring thought, and the pen you jot notes with
I'm the paper you crumple and throw in the bin
I organize work space: i hold "out's" and "in's"!

I'm the keys you can't find in the depths of your purse,
I'm the sigh of relief you let out after work
and when you get home and plop down to rest,
I'm the fact that no kids are there, hence the house ain't a mess!

(what a relief.)