The old priest considered the cast-iron oil pot sitting in the corner of the immaculate kitchen. It was heavy, and his back hurt.
The trees growing on the canyon walls whispered to him. "Prepare
...
[+]
It's all those little things- you know?
The "I love you"s before you go,
The phone calls that you're heading home,
The not-going-to-bed-alone,
The dog between us on our laps,
The putting-down-the-kids-for-naps,
"How was your day?" and "How'd you sleep?"
And "Is there anything to eat?"
And, when we see that something's wrong,
The "Tell me, please, what going on."
Support, in times of ailing health,
Or bills up-piling on the shelf,
Support, as children change and grow,
Or as we binge that Netflix show,
Support, in all small joys and chores,
Makes you still mine, and me still yours.
The "I love you"s before you go,
The phone calls that you're heading home,
The not-going-to-bed-alone,
The dog between us on our laps,
The putting-down-the-kids-for-naps,
"How was your day?" and "How'd you sleep?"
And "Is there anything to eat?"
And, when we see that something's wrong,
The "Tell me, please, what going on."
Support, in times of ailing health,
Or bills up-piling on the shelf,
Support, as children change and grow,
Or as we binge that Netflix show,
Support, in all small joys and chores,
Makes you still mine, and me still yours.