What no one sees still exists happens around the corner and in front of our eyes. Why can't I appreciate small things the little steps my story takes before revealing an end that unexpectedly twists a tornado scorches my skin like July's sun budding words mighty stories no one seems to read until big thorns big steps punctuate the word constructed to make things work. Small things measure big success when one day you stand there and the rug beneath your feet is gone for good. We hold that pencil never still, ready to write the next word when you will.
The last stanza especially grabbed me, but the whole thing is lovely.
🖤 🖤 🖤