Little things

And one more day just passes like that,
Drenching her in sweat,
Making her body ache as she lies down,
Awake, her mind racing,
In search of new to create,
They say rest is a must, but she denies,
Not for her duties, but for herself,
She longs to move her hands on those canvases,
The brushes, the scissors, the little boxes of hues,
The warmth of those pages, the smell of those books,
The glittery covers, the embracing stories,
Oh it has been long, but never did she forget,
The magic of treasures,bringing out the best,
Soothing thy soul,no matter how exhausted she is,
The little things will always bring joy to her,
For these have never been so little as one sees.