Little things matter.

Image by Jose Antonio Alba from Pixabay

Of ball room dances under a star lit sky,

Of candle lit dinners in old world cafes,

Of squeezing in like sardines in crowded trains,

Of passing a crowd of revellers outside pubs,

Of streets on a Friday eve thick with laughter,

Of walking through the stocked aisles of supermarkets,

Of Saturday night parties and blind dates,

Of Sunday brunches with grandparents,

Of breathing in fresh air without looking around,

Of rubbing my eyes or resting my chin in my hand,

Of weddings, play dates, football matches,

Of hugs, kisses and handshakes,

Of all the little things we took for granted,

Here is praying they come back soon,

In the end it’s the little things we miss,

The little things that matter,

The little things we need,

To really live till the final hour.

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