The Little Things
In summer robe she sits
Bathed in the late morning sun
By the large east window
Barefoot, with slender calves
Crossed beneath the breakfast table
Pouring intently over the sunday news
Her long dark hair thrown to one side
Ruffled but beautiful
Illuminating her face
As she leans on her hand
Teaspoon still held in her fingers
While the steam rises from her favourite cup
That small furrow appears
As something written strikes a chord
The captivating light in her eyes
Processing a world of ideas
As her mind deciphers the fact from fiction
Unseen I smile to her across the room
At the little things that mean so much
Things she doesn’t even know she does
That make her stand out for me
My woman, my equal, my lover and friend
I set her favourite brunch beside her papers
And her hand reaches out
Clasping my retreating fingers in thanks
Holding on a moment while she finishes a paragraph
Until her eyes turn up to me above a smile
This dream come true
Radiant in the sun’s glow
And the light reveals her femininity
The hidden silhouette through the thin material
Stirring memories of our late morning
And happiness fills the room
©Copyrighted by Colin Ryan (2010)








