Appreciate the small things,
You hear it all the time.
The sun shining,
through your window,
a deer grazing in the yard.
Her face
while she sleeps,
the complete innocence of it all.
And then I’m left to wonder,
what qualifies as small?
Appreciate the small things,
You hear it all the time.
The sun shining,
through your window,
a deer grazing in the yard.
Her face
while she sleeps,
the complete innocence of it all.
And then I’m left to wonder,
what qualifies as small?
Love your poem, especially the last line. That resonates with me. I guess small is relative?
Thanks for your lovely addition to my day.
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Good question, what is small? Those are big things in the picture of life, especially the face you are looking at with deep love.
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Oh my goodness; that is lovely. That last line…
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