Little things

The little things count,
so I'm told,
and I tally them up now,
as a child does, on fingers.

Small tokens;
A new colouring book
on market day, and
those pink plastic shoes
I'd wanted all summer,
for christmas.

Do you now, I wonder,
cherish these
infrequent letters
and last minute cards.
Do you count the minutes
we spend on the phone,
in single figures,
on one hand.

Do you turn them
-fake plastic gems-
in the dark earth
of your heart,
wiping them off,
naming them love,
making them count.