Thank You

Eight letters, two syllables, words that are so loud,
Words that are murmured to people, whispered while staring at the clouds.
You look at me and mouth it, a symbol of gratefulness, 

I wonder if that\'s the only reason you utter it. 

 

\'Thank you is a weird phrase\' I hear you say one day,
Turning around to look at you, I brace myself and say,
\'What\'s so weird?\' but you won\'t look at me as you speak,
\'It feels too little a thing to say, when you feel something so much more sleek.\'

 

I know you appreciate me, for all I\'ve done and all I\'ve not,
But when I hear your voice echo off the walls,
The tone so soft, your eyes so happy, just to whisper those two words,
Regardless of what it is, it makes me beam.

 

I smile in reply, a \'welcome\' dying on my lips,
When you look up at the ceiling, and you tell me why you love living,
You say it\'s for the cake you like to eat, the warmth of the sun,
And everything else you\'ve always held dear.

 

But knowing you, I grin with delight,
You\'re not just food and weather, clothes and shoes,
So when you say you\'re grateful, I know what you mean,
The thank you that you shout out is for every wonderful thing you\'ve seen.

 

I know you\'re grateful for white lilies, red berries and cream,

I\'m aware that you love the forests and trees,
I notice the way you light up when you glance at something new,
Makes me want to be a part of the world you\'ve learnt to sew. 

 

-InsanelyHilarious