Small Patterns

In the weave of daily threads,

In every corner, every nook,

A story waits in the smallest look.

The way the sun shifts through the pane,

Tiny echoes of routine’s dance,

Hold secrets in their subtle glance.

A smile shared in fleeting grace,

The tender lines on a weathered face,

In the mundane, patterns lie,

Soft and fleeting as they pass by.

Yet in these fragments, soft and small,

Resides the beauty of it all,

For in the simplest, smallest things,

The heart’s true song gently sings.