Poem: Even the smallest things
Hidden, the forest floor bejewelled
in fallen leaves and berries,
more beautiful from the bottom
peering up, than above.
The verdant trees hang dream-like
speared in sunshine and spotlight
the trails through the tall grass
travelled by beetle-back and carriage.
A wizened owl watches while the sly cat sells its wares
in the market square where
even the smallest things take form
and dream.
Oh hi, kinda find this poem to be so cute. I dunno why, maybe because small things always exudes that cute and adorable atmosphere. ^^
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Thanks for commenting! Small is always cute 😊
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