The Little Things [a poem]
By Leon StevensΒ | Featured Contributor
Stop. Feel that?Β
The warmth of the sunΒ
The breeze on your faceΒ
Rain. It has its own unique smellΒ
Feels like tiny punches when it landsΒ
Wherever you areΒ
There is beauty and wonder aboutΒ
Even if seemingly insignificantΒ
A smell, a color, a sight, a feelΒ
There is always something to appreciateΒ
Like cool grass under bare feetΒ
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