Little Love Things

There’s a plastic blue photo frame with a chipped corner

On my mahogany desk at the bank that

I thank the Lord for every day

As I lay my tattered purse on the chair next

To me, because we always have pictures

Of the two of us to fill it.

There’s an Italian restaurant made from red brick and stone

            On the corner of Kessler and tenth that

            Leaks the smell of garlic bread out to

The street where I drive by in my ’83 Chevy

And recall that we always eat spaghetti and

Meatballs every Tuesday night.

There’s a small farmhouse with the front gate torn off of its hinges

            On the edge of a town next to a field of corn that

            Has the lights on at night as I make my way though

            The red-painted front door and into the family room

Where there stands an FM radio that we always hear

The Eagles on as we dance across the barren floor.

There’s a man with a crooked grin and sparkling hazel eyes

            On his way to our small and unfurnished bedroom that

            Will lay his head next to mine on a pillow flattened

            From years of use and kiss me softly to say goodnight

            And we always fall asleep tightly holding on

To each other, afraid to let go.

Reviews

[Kyle]

This is so very sweet.

[Andrea]

Really beautiful! I love the mix of everyday things with the emotions and memories. And you kept me reading and hanging on to see where it was going, hoping for a happy ending, and finding it in each others arms. Fantastic!!!

[Forest Green]

Beautiful interplay between the landscape of sentimental moments and the tapestry of devotion.

Every line is surrounded by 'friends' that color this poem, balancing heartfelt emotions with the finer details of memories.

Excellent...