The joy of little things

Wasn't the mountains, but pebbles I desired.
Those which hands could grab, without ever feeling tired.
Wasn't the ocean, but few drops I desired.
Those which palm could hold, feeling little admired.

The joy of little things is what I desire.
A little wood and a few sparks of fire.

Wasn't the winds, but few breaths I desired.
Those which soul could feed on, feeling alive, not retired.
Wasn't the tides, but few waves I desired.
Those which feet could stand, without need of being wired.

The joy of little things is what I desire.
A little wood and a few sparks of fire.

Wasn't the words, but feelings I desired.
Those heart could get warmth of, without feeling mired.
Enough to light the night for me.
Is little love, affection and tranquility.

The joy of little things is what I desire.
A little wood and a few sparks of fire.

Soul speaks to soul with silence.
Wordless, the language of magnificence.
Hands in hand are just an expression.
The flow of love is an invisible impression.
Thanks God, for it's with little things.
Thou captured joy and it's wings.

The joy of little things is what I desire.
A little wood and a few sparks of fire.