Small Things


Photo Credit: valeriemonthuit at

We could talk,
speak of
small things
and beauty,
of broken pieces
and tall melodies
sauntering through
places tied to your heart,
circling mine
even though the miles
look like oceans
instead of steps.

The impossibly blue sky
shimmers because
it’s all not real,
these parking lot memories
and river side whispers.


They hover
and I reach,
but I am here
and they are there
in gossamer fields
blowing in imaginary winds.




8 thoughts on “Small Things

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