It’s the Small Things That Count, Poem

pexels-photo-14111.jpeg

 

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.

 

© Lemuel

08 May 2018

 

Poem

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