Somedays we are synced;
we glide like a well-rehearsed symphony,
dancing symmetrically through the house,
complimenting each other’s movements,
creating harmonies that bounce off the walls
and rejoin the chorus.

And somedays we are discordant minors
crashing into each other’s monologues,
tripping over one another’s feet,
cursing the intrusion,
making muddy puddles of malcontent
all over the kitchen floor.