Don’t bring me some expensive flowers or cards
because a date on the calendar tells you so.
And you don’t have to buy me chocolates
It’s the little things, that touch my heart much more.
Like the time you stopped along the road
jumped out to pick, those yellow wild flowers.
Or the time you spent, when I was sick
at my bedside, you’d sit for hours.
Or the time you made me a Sweetest Day card,
from a page you’d ripped from a book.
It’s the little things, that touch my heart dear
It’s that special time and thought you took.
It’s the time you wrapped yourself in plastic
red, if I can recall.
Naked underneath your plastic wrapper
running naked, tripped and took a fall.
With a flower clenched between your teeth
and a chasseur cat like grin, upon your face.
It’s the Little things that touch my heart
in that private and special place.
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