HOME | DD

Description
The little things are important.
A spray of soft kisses on the beach
each telling a story
struggling to be heard against the waves.
The cries of gulls as we march
into the warm sea.

The little things are burned into
our shared memory.
The ghosts of hands atop each other.
Streetlights gilding your shy smile
as your fingers knit with mine
in a way that will not fade.

The little things refuse to die.
They will not flee the crime scene,
they cannot leave a small heart
blackened beaten bloodied and alone.
They wouldn't do that not to
one of their own.

A breeze blows up across heather.
My breath catches as it sings to us of love.
We lie beside each other and make our own songs.

The little things are important.
Those three little words you said to me are more important still.

Description
The little things are important.
A spray of soft kisses on the beach
each telling a story
struggling to be heard against the waves.
The cries of gulls as we march
into the warm sea.

The little things are burned into
our shared memory.
The ghosts of hands atop each other.
Streetlights gilding your shy smile
as your fingers knit with mine
in a way that will not fade.

The little things refuse to die.
They will not flee the crime scene,
they cannot leave a small heart
blackened beaten bloodied and alone.
They wouldn't do that not to
one of their own.

A breeze blows up across heather.
My breath catches as it sings to us of love.
We lie beside each other and make our own songs.

The little things are important.
Those three little words you said to me are more important still.