Whispers of the Genie

In the attic’s hush, she found it—

a lamp, tired of silence,

waiting beneath her grandfather’s dust.

******

No smoke, no thunder—

just a flicker in the mirror,

a voice like memory breathing back.

******

“You seek nothing, yet you touch everything,”

it said,

and the words lingered like perfume

on a dream half-remembered.

******

She asked for wishes,

but it only offered truth—

that desire is the echo

of what the heart dares not name.

******

So she stopped asking.

She listened to the hum

between heartbeat and thought,

to the unseen hand

turning her silence into light.

******

One morning, the lamp was gone—

yet sometimes, in the glass,

the air still ripples.

******

And in that shimmer,

something smiles,

answering softly

from where wishes begin.