Yellow pufferfish at bath time 
swallowing swathes of bubbles, 

when I spray you over my son’s curls
you spit waterfalls: 

inflate memories greater than Yosemite 
Falls. Here I float  

the finest photographs. Then 
close my phone to splash 

you, rubber pufferfish, our bath
buoy, drifting through shampoo. 

When we were at friends’ 
in California, we fished 

you from their garden pool believing
that you were ours, 

but as bath time tunes begin 
again at home in the UK, we discover 

we now have two. One more 
waterfall to wish  

at for that one evening  
before we post you back 

to San Francisco, to paddle 
adventures there, with different 

kids; bobbing through
birthdays, Sunday afternoons. A souvenir 

of our trip, from bath back to pool,
you return like summer.

Chris Campbell