Four people in this house

There are four people in this house The dictionary names them family- Family. They are not Differentiated binary roles gender distinguishment, smiles, dresses And puberty hairdos, perfectly assigned Everything. Minus the daddy swinging his daughter In the open air. Her toothless laugh fearless Or the wild haired son clutching his mother's hem In a crowded market square, knowing he won't get lost. Anyway We were all these things once. Like a young moon Or the shining stars in a breezy night We were all hands, touches and careful reproaches Honey dripping along the kitchen counter edges Or the father with his muddied slippers inside the house. Forgetting again Forgotten now. All the glory of our mistakes Now we are four people in this house And galaxies distant millions away Or stars in a breezy night. Underneath all the smoke. Or numerous street lights taking over the moon. Now we are four strangers in this house with own youtube channels and favourite songs Hidden preferences. Clammy presences We love each other. We do But- And there's no but. I hope