It’s the Small Things That Count
It’s the small things that count:
Like receiving a bouquet of flowers that grew three steps from your own back door
a hug when your gerbil and your salamander escaped on consecutive days,
reading books by flashlight under blankets at midnight;
someone to watch your stuff whilst quickly you go
a back scratch, a back rub, someone you chose.
They chose you back, without one regret,
no regard for how useful you are.
To their credit, you are just fine,
not perfect, but pretty good
will do, it’s the small
things that do count
the most, now I see.
You must love me
for, plain ole me.
08 May 2018