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Everywhere I go, I find a poet has been there before me.
-Sigmund Freud
People Marks
Handprints
Greasy thumbprints
Reminders, remainders of my tribe
Used housemarks
Wet grassy footprints
From kidfeet
Having the time of their lives
Pitter pitter pitter pat
Mirror smudges
Wiping away fog to see your face
The face I love
Socks, shoes, hats and toys
Left scattered with abandon
By gran-kids
Gathered each one with a caress
And plopped into your special bag
Dishes, cups, silver and half eaten cookies
I don’t like to clean up while you’re here
It’s my special “relishing treat”
My meditation
My focal point for later
Loud yells, squeals, laughing, crying, whining
And talking, talking, talking
About all your very special stuff
My people are my bliss
I love my people marks
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