Little Things

It’s the little things that break your heart–

Apple pie never eaten

in a house with one too many chairs.

A leftover sock in the wash–

never to rejoin its mate.

And perhaps you think it odd

that I stand here weeping

over a hairbrush filled

with fine straight golden strands–

(for my hair is dark

and tight with curls)–

but it only takes a heartbeat

to shatter a world.



Companion to last post, Disintegration. 

How sweet it is when sisters live

in counterpoint melodies

resolving to harmony

punctuated only by companionable silence.

When the morning sizzle of breakfast

replaces anger

and the tears are shared, not inflicted.

how utterly indescribable

is the smallest moment

infused with scents of paradise

and colored with beauty beyond the visible spectrum.

if no eye has seen what is prepared,

nor ear has heard

then how can we even begin to fathom

when even this pale shadow of harmony

five times brighter than the sun

more intense than a rainbow

more welcoming than the scent of home

is so much less than the promise of true communion:

for truly, it is sweet.