Sciencemama is a poet who can turn even a poopy diaper blow-out into a thing of beauty (John Keats, eat your heart out). Lately she's been turning out these gorgeous, poignant lines (here and here).
I might not be able to compete in the poignancy department, but here are my entries for today:
For Baby Legume:
Her round cheeks like ripe fruit. Warm
and pressed against mine.
And here is an entry from my guest poet, the Bean-girl. She composed this on the couch while I blew her nose.
Where does snot come from?
From in my head, deep inside?
I would like some grapes.