Why does he do such things?

Or should I say

Why doesn’t he do such things?

It’s the little things that count

Where are the little things?

Am I

Just a little thing to you?

You are my whole world,

But I fear that to you,

I am just a breeze

Rifling through your hair

Fun to enjoy for a moment

But only when it’s there

You do not notice its absence

Or reflect on how it felt

The only time you get close to thinking about it

Is when you look in the mirror

And with a slight frown,

Fix your hair that somehow came undone.