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The Little Things

*pic courtesy from pinterest  The little things the little smile the little flower in the corner aisle the little butterfly catches my eye along with  the hovering bee like sketches drawn in the sky look at the little ant fleet just close to my feet the little spider takes a warm seat the little girl who hops on the broken tile while her mother looks right across  the street from a mile I wave at her she waves back the little gestures the little fingers the little spider continues to linger the little heartbeats as humming treats while I pick up the little crumbs from my bread last night

The Painted Flowers

Everyone was quiet...
One was shattered.
No one earns it right.
Faith was scattered.
Words were over-polite..
One had scars.
It started to pour in slight.
Eyes had drops tonight.
White came down..
Flowers for the crown.
Gathered every courage..
To meet the verbiage.
Hearts swelled with each other.
But never got further.
They would rather die..
Than lying to each other.
Though white in color…
They were always painted.
Though pure in valor.
They were portrayed as tainted.
Now the crowd doesn’t fight..
As one has lost her very right.
From her bag wide open..
She showers the painted flowers.
That gets washed off by rain..

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