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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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Traveler

I write about people I met..
About people whose eyes went wet.
About people who meant something.
About people who let go of everything.
I write about places I visit..
That talk to me.
That walk with me at every step.
That stalk me as I sleep..
That provoked me to find them no matter what.
I write about free spirits.
About the dancing street.
About the glaring little girl.
About the forest that fumes with fire.
About the mother who doesn’t sleep.
About the man who smokes to forget.
About morning that holds you.
About the night that folds you.
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