The Littlest Things

That pile of dirty clothes on the floor

You never bothered to move,

 

Getting home with a story to tell

But no one to tell it to,

 

Cooking a meal for one,

And still leaving half – for who?

 

Remembering to lock the door before bed,

Because now I’m the last to walk through.

 

Always, it’s the littlest things

Reminding me to miss you.

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4 thoughts on “The Littlest Things

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