Toddler in the House
Tasmanian Devil
wouldn’t have left
such a trail of puddles,
fingerprints and mystery
smudged: Midas touch
but instead of gold, sticky.
Remotes in the garbage.
My phone in the garbage.
My wallet in the garbage.
Crayon in my books, on the wall,
on the refrigerator.
A joy I’ve never known
shining through.
One thought on "Toddler in the House"
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I love the last line.