In the quiet of the morning light,
Where whispers of dawn softly play,
A small love blooms, tender and bright,
In the gentle embrace of the day.

The world may not turn its gaze,
To the subtle glow that warms the heart,
Yet in each moment’s tender phase,
A connection forms, never to part.

In the rustle of leaves on a breezy path,
In the delicate dance of evening’s song,
A small love writes its gentle math,
In quiet harmony, where it belongs.

With every soft and knowing glance,
In shared silences and gentle sighs,
A small love finds its sacred dance,
Where true affection never dies.