Unfinished coffee,
void of warmth,
aching for last touch.
Oh, the daddy.

Spilled sauces blots
on canvas, wait,
it’s kitchen table top.
Oh, the mommy.

Crumbs of cookies
paved roads for
the hard working ants.
Oh, the eldest.

Traps made of Lego
too tiny, too tough,
barefoot left scathed.
Oh the youngest.

Bedroom scented
with the musk of
used pair of socks.
Oh, the middle child.

This map of mess
proves a house is still
a living,

breathing

home.

10.17.2018
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

For dVerse Beauty in Ugliness.

Published by areadingwriter

I read because I write. | I write because I read.

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41 Comments

  1. This is so so visual, as well as aural. So good. So so good. You painted a scene, and layered the sounds of this mess that keeps the house alive, keeps it worth living in. I know what an empty house feels like. I know how it feels talking to the walls. Thank you writing such a gem, my love. Proudest of you!

    Liked by 2 people

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