An egg, vanilla, a flour dusting,
water, cloth, and suds.
I taste the sweetness left behind,
from cookies and milk duds.
I get walked on but that's okay,
my place in life is here.
I witness every single day,
I cradle every tear.
A pitter-patter, smudge of mud,
they're not so far away.
They roll the ball and stretch to yawn,
I'm here to sleep or play.
My visitors, they never cease
a wagging tail ahead,
a soggy bone a booming thud,
and I've become his bed.
The countless days throughout the years,
your loved ones I'll hold near.
Beneath your feet I'll steady you,
the memories I'll save here.
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
lol. my thoughts have strayed onto only one subject of late.. *sigh* quite lovely indeed. my kitchen floor is always a welcome surface to sit or flop upon 
to just imagine the things that have happened in there over the years... i must content myself with knowing only the part i have played. friggen curiosity. i might as well be a cat *raises one eyebrow with a sly smile*
~m~
I'd like to give you a present... maybe drop some chocolate on this sweet floor. 
