Whispers & Dreams

Sometimes I cry, not knowing why, and laugh as if it’s my purpose—perhaps it is.

I run my fingers over petals, somehow believing they hold the pulse of the earth.

I tilt my head to catch whispers carried by the wind, tucking dreams into my chest like fragile treasures.

Sometimes, I close my eyes and paint harmony over chaos, willing the world to breathe softer—perhaps just for a moment.

I sip hot chocolate, letting the sweetness linger, grinning like a child who somehow remembers a simpler time.

I pull faces at mirrors, share secret winks with babies, and chuckle at my own foolishness, as if it matters.

The taste of butter melting into warm bread feels like a hug I didn’t know I needed—perhaps one I’ve been waiting for.

Sometimes I sit quietly and wonder—where do worries go when they fade away? Do they somehow dissolve, or find another place to linger?

I speak too loudly in hushed rooms, not to disrupt but to remind myself I exist, perhaps hoping someone else notices too.

I wrap my arms around trees, thanking them silently for their steadfast roots, somehow feeling their strength seep into me.

Sometimes, I let my feet meet the ground, spinning wildly in barefoot dances of freedom, as if joy were a song only I could hear.

I mourn the days that have slipped away but greet the morning light with reverence—perhaps as a promise to myself.

I make wishes on the faintest stars, sidestep cracks, pocket pennies, and let the ocean kiss my ankles as I marvel at the moon’s glow.

I pluck daisies, scatter dandelion seeds to the wind, and somehow lose myself in the shimmer of dragonfly wings.

Sometimes, I wish I could catch the fleeting beauty of a moment and hold it so tightly it becomes forever.

— And sometimes, I do.