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The little things

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With life always changing, I know that one thing will never change. One thing that will last a life time and more.

I always had an eye for the small things that made big things the way they are. I could talk to someone for a couple minutes and tell what kind of person they were. I can look at something and see a new story to write about.

Only thing is, with you everything is different.

With winter coming the world starting changing. But every year it would do the same thing, winter comes the leaves change and fall and then the snow starts to fall. So we are use to this change, unlike all the other changes, we know what to expect.

But this change, for me, was different than the rest. It was the day I met you.

You with your beautiful eyes, messed up hair and no care in the world. You were perfect but so imperfect at the same time.

I once was told that no one yet has completed the definition perfect because there is not one person in this world, who doesn't have flaws. Few have come close but stuck with one set back.

I met him at the train station , the only one left in this place. We sat next to each other because of our ticket numbers. We started talking and to find out that we were doing the same thing, going for the view, the journey, and the adventure. Only difference is that I wrote about what I saw and he drew them. Both about the little things.

We spent the day together, not caring about anything, like we both did so well.

Everyday after that we would go places. Not just any place. We would go to places that people go to everyday, places that people took for granted. Places that someone would never go in there free time because all they see is the big things. They just don't know what to look for. But we do.

As winter past and spring came, our memories came too.

When Spring turned to summer the night grew longer and we would spend more time together, laying in fields, taking in every little thing around, the way the trees blew and rustled, the way the birds sang as they flew over us.

One thing that I saw most was the grass, the way it moved as my fingers ran through it, the way it moved like a perfect symphony, together, as one.

Summer was both his and mine favorite time of the year. In summer the world changes so much but in a way it stays the same.

With life going on and with secrets still hidden within the grass buried far within, to never to be let out again.

Our journey will only go as far as we let it, just like life.

You are not described as the trees, Nor the wind. Nor the birds or the sun. You are not the rain nor the sky. You are the grass, that stretches for miles on end with nothing standing in its way. For you carry me, both far and wide.




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