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The Little Things

*pic courtesy from pinterest  The little things the little smile the little flower in the corner aisle the little butterfly catches my eye along with  the hovering bee like sketches drawn in the sky look at the little ant fleet just close to my feet the little spider takes a warm seat the little girl who hops on the broken tile while her mother looks right across  the street from a mile I wave at her she waves back the little gestures the little fingers the little spider continues to linger the little heartbeats as humming treats while I pick up the little crumbs from my bread last night
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Broken Pieces

Broken pieces scattered all over..
As I start collecting some pierce through.
A red drop trickles..
As my skin chuckles.
But tears take precedence.
Not even once those pieces lie,
Everywhere they sit and cry.
Melancholy should be self explanatory.
I pick them up as they prick..
To indefinite souls they stick.
Weak as they have fallen,
Spoilt yet defensive.
Wet but not mourning,
Looking at each other..
They start holding up one another.
Stagger yet sober,
Shadows gather,
But couldn’t walk any further.
Sit through the night..
Untimely awoken.
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