The Ketchup On My Sock

The finger prints on the fridge

The kiss marks on the windows 

They are real. 

The fruit snacks squished into the carpet

The veggie straws smashed into the vents

They are real.

The pitter-patter-thud of footsteps

The ketchup on my sock

They are real. 

One blonde, one brunette 

Two dreams come true at once

They are real. 


A little poem for these two baby birds 🙂 

One thought on “The Ketchup On My Sock

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