The Little Things

entry picture

People ask me what love is

and I smile because I know

I see the answer in you every day

 

Your sadness for old shoes

left on a windowsill

waiting to be rescued from the rain

 

The scar above your eye you hate

when it speaks to you in the mirror

Always and relentlessly there,

sharing a home with the old ones in your heart

colored crimson and blue

 

It’s not perfection I seek

It’s the little things that are real

and draw me closer to you

They leave their impressions;

with no chance of escaping my heart

◄ Cat Tale

Guests, of a Sort ►

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message