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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

The Road Was My Own

Into the forest..
As I walked..
The trees looked down at me.
I could see..
My feet chasing the ground.
Soul stretch …
Was the naked sketch.
Of voices that surround.
The unsaid words..
That I never heard..
Was a fleet filled with birds.
Childhood hugging…
Falsehood bugging..
Left inside..
Was the sweat trickling below..
Making an attempt to sort narrow..
But forever shallow.
Defining virtue..
Over needy leaves…
Tip toeing into dry crumple..
Stumbled on a stone..
While thunder erode..
Refusing the turn..
As eyes got wet..
Took the wrong road..
That I went alone..
Was definitely my own.

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