The Little Things

People ask me what love is
and I smile because I know
I see the answer in you every day

Your sadness for old shoes
left on a windowsill
waiting to be rescued from the rain

The scar above your eye you hate
when it speaks to you in the mirror
Always and relentlessly there,
sharing a home with the old ones in your heart
colored crimson and blue

It’s not perfection I seek
It’s the little things that are real
and draw me closer to you
They leave their impressions;
with no chance of escaping my heart