There are dishes in the sink (again) and a few piles of toys to take back upstairs. There are books to return to the library and shoes getting laced on the wrong feet by stubborn hands. There are skinned knees (and hands) needing a kiss before walking the rest of the way home from the playground and babies tucked under thick blankets hiding from the cold October wind. There are my own tired hands (always) wiping down counters after a late lunch while tears disrupt the sounds of laughter in the playroom - another human moment of learning to get along with each other, somehow. There is laundry hanging on the line (still) forgotten yesterday, but for now there’s warm tea in a mug and tiny fingers curled into my hair, the silence of a finally napping child and there’s always wisteria growing along the side of old brick houses
Perfect, beautiful poem. Carry on!
"tiny fingers curled in my hair..." Swoon 💞