The Soft Seal

The edge of the tub, where it meets the tile,

a line of caulk, once bright.

Now graying, soft, after a while,

not holding back the light

of moisture.

I pressed a finger, just a test,

and it gave way, with ease.

That clean, hard line had lost its zest,

succumbing to the slow disease

of damp.

A strip peeled back, like tired skin,

revealing the dark space below.

Something meant to keep things in,

now letting everything go.

The failure small, but sharp and plain.

Just a line, that can't quite hold.

Letting in the slow, persistent rain,

as the story gets old.