Through A Splinter

I think nothing of a splinter, until my hand slides down a rail and a small piece sticks in my finger. Then I think of nothing else.

A small seed means nothing, until it is planted and a flower blooms. Then the sweet smell fills the air and makes everything smells fresh and new. It also makes some people sneeze.

A simple word, like love, means nothing until I hear it spoken, and see it lied out by someone who matters most to me. Then I feel more alive than ever.

Small things don’t mean much at all; that is until they somehow find their way into my life. Through a splinter, through a flower, through a word; like love.