Tiny Gestures by Chris McDaniel
Love is not found
in beautiful cards
or sweet chocolates.
Love is the silent presence
of a dear friend,
the one upon whose shoulder
you cry, when the world is bleak.
Love is not found between
two naked bodies, hiding in a secret place.
Love is the phone call during a storm,
because he knows you are scared,
and the jaunty tone
that masks his own fear.
Love is not the flashy wedding,
the snowy dress and towering cake.
It is the twinkling eye
that catches your own,
and drowns out the foggy future.
Love is the little things,
the tiny gestures made
without artifice or guile.
The laundry folded upon your bed,
the note that says “Don’t overdo it”
the arm that wraps around you in the dark,
as you drift away into your dreams.
The little things,
the embers dancing in the night air,
that brick by brick build
a fortress that will never fail.