Evidence
Show me your living room on a Friday morning. The laundry napping on the couch. Legos building dreams. Show me your kitchen after you make your favorite meal. Bowls dripping and counters sticky. Dirty dishes waiting for you to come back from the feast. Show me the crumbs on the floor, the unmade beds, the shoes piled by the door, the toothpaste smeared on the sink. Show me the broken crayons and the art on the walls. Show me your desk covered with pieces of yourself waiting to be put into poems. Show me the transcripts of the arguments and the tapes of the belly laughs. Show me the evidence.
Show me the ever-growing pile of dirty onesies and milk-stained cloths... evidence of a newborn well cared for and much loved <3
Lovely poem! Love thinking of my house as lived in, evidence of my family.