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The Little Things That Matter
A thousand hues
A million mixes
When my eye,
Upon that scene fixes;
I see a palette divine
Artistry, ever so fine.
The sky may be, the way to Thee
And in itself ‘tis
The manifestation of bliss.
Yet each little pigment makes it so
The petal, the pollen of the flower
The seconds, minutes of the hour
The roots, the branches, the stem, the leaves
Come together and form, the lovely trees
The aromatic smell of rain
The spicy jab of pain
The tiny crystal of snow
The flame’s silent glow
Every pencil stroke
In my charcoal sketch
Where each line broke
And where two curves met
Vertical, horizontal and slanted
Each shading method brings it out
The true essence
Through the details shout
My Fujifilm camera captures
Each independent pixel though
I s the factor that
Gives life to the photo
The intertwined strands of wool
Adorning my winter sweater
Twists, knots and patterns rule
‘Tis said handwriting displays
What a person’s personality says
How curls the ‘f’ in ‘fur’
How clear the writing, or how blur
In what way, you cross the‘t’s
And dot the ‘i’s
Jot down the truth
Or fashion lies
Now I delve,
Into the magical world
From whence unto
These lines unfurled
Poetry, poet’s pretty muse
Each element in a poem,
Has high esteem
How the rhythm goes
And how the theme
The simile well knows
And the metaphor shows
If ‘tis written in joy
Or excruciating pain
Much knowledge about it
From these facts can gain
The little labors, never in vain
Thus, your eyes
To look for them, train
And all above discourse concludes
All details to a mountain amount
And they are what make…
The real thing count
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