Little Things

I write of the little things, of a smile and a glance.
The crackle of peppermint wrappers, an envisioned dance.
The whisper of stars and paper-bound leaves,
These are the little things.

A worn dusty track, bare feet marking the time.
Ink on a letter, with promises fine.
The twisting and soaring of pairs of rope swings,
These are the little things.

Daffodils and sand, a soccer field’s sun.
The joyful gasp of a length already run.
The knowledge of hope, a laugh to Fate,
To hear your name in a growing breeze,
These are the little things.


Caroline Johnson

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