The Little Things

It’s not the big gesture
that endears you to me.
It’s not extravagant gifts, nor the toys, the trips.
Not even the roses, or your lips.
It’s the little things
that you don’t
know
you
do,
that warm my heart
and remind my soul
why it is that
I love
you.

It’s not so much the holiday’s
expected arrays
of a catalog of gifts
ordered,
neatly packed,
shipped,
that make my soul sing.
It’s just some little thing.

You reach for my hand
when only you know
how it needs
a steadying anchor
tying it to land.
Or maybe because your big
hand
just feels grand
but such a little thing.

It seems so small,
hardly worth it at all,
but my love beings to soar
once more
when you smile
at me
and listen.

We tend to forget
simple ways to show
what we think we know,
how our love can grow
without compounding the national debt.

Just look at me,
smile and say,
how did something I did for you
made your day,
but it’s such a little thing.