Small Things

Mugs hang chaoticly and in no

discernable order upon decorative hooks.

Ceramic decor and pithy sayings, along side

metal pots and mixing utensils,

part of the everyday, our normal.

I love the simplicity of these banal

things. Your face caught in a moment

of smiling and whimsy, stirring your coffee

or tea and speaking easy on a story.

My cheshire man and his eyes

that always have more to say.

For all the tears the paint on these

walls have beared witness to,

I would miss the cello you play;

the way your bow always finds

the minor keys and echoes

so submlimely in my soul.

Paint me a picture of each

day, so that I may hold it always

in my broken frame.

Let me collect all the small tokens

and meaningless things;

they will be what I wish to see,

when it is finally time to go.