There was longing in her eyes that she would never dare speak aloud, the quiet hope that someone might notice the years blooming inside her.

She walks more slowly through life, gathering every small kindness the day offers: a smile, a question, the warmth of sunlight on her shoulder. She receives each one as though it were a gentle reminder that she still belongs here.

I wanted to tell her:

I see the years blooming inside you.

Instead, I simply smiled.

As our paths quietly drifted apart, I carried one wish with me.

May the years blooming inside her be cherished.

i miss the way
autumn
tells its stories.

sometimes

i write
the hard things

onto paper

so they
no longer have to live

only
inside me.

tonight,

i dance,

hand in hand
with the wind,

wild
and untamed…

where my soul
breathes.

a lone wildflower
crosses
the path
of my life,

shifting
the fog inside,

clearing
my heart-drenched skies.

i wonder

how many people

have saved

something precious

without anyone

ever knowing

it almost

disappeared.

Have you ever watched
a sunrise
at a mountain lake?

Have you stood before life,

witness
to the awakening earth?

Have you beheld
the stars

and the first light
of the sun

in the very same breath?

Did your heart

open?

I will lay my weary head
upon a soft bed of earth,
knowing only
the heartbeat of life
against mine.

Good night

to the scattered leaves
of my mistakes,

to the shadows
of wrongs
I never meant to cast,

to the unfinished ladders
of my reaching,

to the sorrow
of not-enoughness
that echoed
in my chest.

Good night

to the quiet fear
wrapped around my ankles,

to the longing
to be more

for those
I hold in my heart.

And to the dreams,

folded like letters
beneath my pillow.

Good night,

even to the ember
of courage

glowing softly
within my spirit.

It will rise with me

in the quiet
before dawn,

to try again.

To live fully.

This beautiful,

tender life.