Please Won’t You Be ...

Grateful when love arrives

In little packets

Both received and sent.

Hard to see them sometimes

With all the noise

And craving for more.

Mr. Fred Rogers

He’s all the rage these days

In a place of desperation

Where tiny text bites

Try hard to count as love.

Back in the old “neighborhood”

Kindness delivered

In his every out breath

And received in hunger

When hunger

An accepted state

And vulnerability

Soft, tender, open

Could find refuge

In every day miracles

Those little pieces of love.