LITTLE THINGS

That's smell of the book pages,

Reading after many many ages.

The site of a cosy bed,

Which puts me in a sleep like dead.

The sound of meaningful music,

Ranging from classic to just basic.

The taste of a strong hot coffee,

Eat with delicious chocolatey toffee.

The feel of ambition,

Done with hard work and perfection.

The fear of isolation,

Abandoned by all and public humiliation.

The anger flowing through me after my mother is scolding,

Vanishes is in the air when she's fondling.

The thought of starting over,

That occurs to everyone at a crossover.

The dream of travelling from city to city, state to state,

To know about every myth and all about fate.

The wish to turn every dream into reality,

And to offer every thought a little hospitality.

These little things make up my being,

And colour of the world that I am seeing.