EverlastingWaves

Like ink spreads on paper
the stars spread across the sky
I reach out
as though to grab them
but alas
they are untouchable
for a kid like me
I try
to stand taller
and brush them 
with my fingertips
but alas

Home
Not so much a place
put a thing, or a feeling.

Home is the smell
of ink on paper
as you pour your essence
onto a crisp piece of paper
Is the soft feeling
of getting lost
in a daydream

I am a sketch
a small idea
skribbled out
not perfect
but decent
I have rough lines
no perfect curves
and waver
against the
papery backround
I am not a true drawing
just a sketch
what you see
from the outside

small

the ruddy path
weaves through the tall
reaching branches
I walk slowly
afraid of the darkness
that lies inside
the whistling of wind
and the creaking of trees
is all I can hear
roots swim out
lacing into the dirt

The little things

a smile from a friend

the soft falling of snow

the cool summer air

hitting your skin

as you watch the sunset

all these things 

are little things

small, little things