it's on the tip of my tongue

It's all in the little things-
small haircuts
tiny smiles
sideways glances
cups of coffee
miniature love notes
brief kisses
quiet giggles
-beautiful faith.
Simplicity
is almost always shocking
and it almost
makes things more difficult.
I feel
like I'm learning how to do this
all
over
again.
Is there any talent left
in these stained, grownup fingers?
Is there any reason still
to keep me spitting out words?
I guess in the end
it depends on the motives.
Hope is coming back again.
That's enough for me.