Delicate Balance

Four flighty faeries dance on my draining board.
Tiny creatures with features almost too small to make out.
Clinging lilac and purple gossamer chemises hint
Of vixens with innocent smiles.

A curious place to swirl and skip
Amidst the crusty pans and greasy plates.
Their graceful, imperceptible movements hypnotise me.
I stand transfixed, until one waves.
I wave back, forgetting the bottle in my hand.

A green jet blasts their delicate frames from the board.
And, swept away by a perfumed tsunami,
My friendly faeries slide down the plughole.
Their dance abruptly over.

Mortified, I stare accusingly at the plastic bottle in my hand
As though it had acted with malicious intent,
Independently, destructively.
The label reads Fairy Liquid.