The Little Things.

Baudelaire has nothing on me.
For all his scriptures and beautiful prose
He may say that you have beauty beyond words;
I buy you chocolate on my way home from work.

No, I may not be a McCartney.
Words often elude me at important times.
I may not tell you that you’re my everything;
Instead, I iron your shirt late on a Sunday.

I will never be a Picasso.
What does he possess that I don’t?
He might paint you in a thousand shades of red;
I put yellow peppers in your food.

I am not as dainty as Loren –
She was always too skinny anyway.
She might flash you ‘come-to-bed’ eyes;
I turn the sheets back and put in a hot water bottle.

When all is said and done –
It’s the little things that make it.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: