Little Things Poem by poppy miller
Little Things
These days it is the little things
Which fill my mind's imaginings
The rising sun that lights my room
Absorbing all of night's dark gloom
A given hand full of grace
The smile upon my mother's face
Children at play along the street
Pattering paws at my feet
A laughing wind on a country walk
The fireside and the toasting fork
Too numerous to mention, little things,
That fill my mind's imagining.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/5/2026 9:04:17 PM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
