In shadowed streets where silence weeps,
And echoes chase the feet of time,
A whisper hums where sorrow sleeps,
“Stay soft,” it sings, “though life may climb
Its thorn-wrought walls and break your skin,
Do not let hardness settle in.”

For pain may press with quiet might,
May twist the dawn into the night,
But you, dear soul, are not your ache,
Not every bruise, not every break.
You are the hush between the rain,
The breath that rises after pain.

So let it hurt. Let teardrops fall
Like silver bells down sorrow’s wall.
Let it swell and let it sting,
Grief is a wild, untamed thing.
But let it heal. The heart, it knows
How even shattered gardens grow.

And when the ache begins to fade,
Like fog dissolved by morning’s blade,
Let it go—release its hold,
The stories pain has tried to mold.
You are more than what you bear,
A flame still dancing through despair.

So rise, as mist that greets the sun,
As rivers do when thaw has come.
Rise soft, rise fierce, rise with your grace,
The world may harden—but not your face.
Smile with the soul that’s weathered through,
There’s still a bloom inside of you.

In the hush between the ticking hours,
Where shadows curl beneath the tea-stained light,
I see you - yes, even now,
Even when you think the world has looked away.

You move through mornings like whispered prayers,
Gathering crumbs of courage from yesterday’s dreams,
Shouldering kindness like a well-worn coat,
Soft at the seams, but still stitched strong.

I see your effort,
Not the loud, banner-waving kind,
But the quiet heroism of simply rising,
Of showing up,
Of washing one more dish,
Smiling once more for someone else.

There is a grace in your weariness,
A dignity in your doubt.
You matter more than the world dares to tell you,
More than the mirror reveals
Or the silence admits.

Be gentle, dear traveller of tangled days.
You are not meant to outrun the dark
But to carry a candle within it.
And I,
With all the stars I can summon,
See you.

In a room where shadows stretched like sighs,
Where time wore slippers and whispered lies,
There stood a soul, not born, but built,
Threaded not from ease, but quilted guilt,
Not soft by chance, but choice refined,
By all the jagged things behind.

She walked where tempests cracked the sky,
Where childhood dreams went soft and dry,
Where harsh words bruised like winter sleet,
Yet still she offered something sweet.
Not sugar spun from naivety,
But honey from a wisdom tree.

For kindness, see, is not a gift
Wrapped neat in bows and morning lift,
It’s forged in fire, steeped in rain,
Tempered in sorrow, kissed by pain.
It’s choosing light with eyes gone dim,
And humming hope when edges grim.

She smiles not out of ignorance,
But as rebellion. As a dance.
As a thumb pressed gently in the eye
Of every grief that whispered: Why?

She learned to bloom where nothing grew,
To soften sharpness, split in two,
And still she laughed. And still she gave.
And still she found more hearts to save.

The kindest souls are not naive,
They know how often people leave,
How promises can turn to smoke,
Yet still, they mend the ones who broke.

So if you meet one - bless the thread
That stitched their wounds and raised their head.
They are the lanterns, fierce and bright,
Born not in ease, but in the night.

In the hush before the kettle sings,
Where morning drips from silver strings,
And sunbeams crawl on the windowsill,
Time pauses… just long enough to fill.

Do not - dear dreamer - slip back to grey,
Where thought loops tight in tangled fray.
Wake up! The world is softly grand,
A teacup trembling in your hand.

Gratitude tiptoes in bare, sweet feet,
Through toast crumbs, yawns, and tangled sheets.
She wears no crown, she needs no fame,
Yet all she touches finds its name.

Be kind - yes, even to the bee
That circles twice, then lets you be.
Be kind to traffic, to aching knees,
To grumpy clouds and stubborn trees.

The cosmos spins, a silent tune,
One minute sun, the next a moon.
Life changes coats - velvet, then threadbare,
It dances swift through shifting air.

So don’t get caught in grumble’s snare,
Or overthink the crooked stair.
The rose is best just smelled, not solved,
And mysteries are best evolved.

Bless the moment - the spoon, the sigh,
The way your laughter splits the sky.
A whisper floats: Be still. Be here.
The sacred hides in the simple, so near.

In the quiet between heartbeats, I found you there,
Not in grand gestures, but in a most gentle care.
In every moment your eyes softly see,
The deepest, truest parts of me.

You understand when words fall short,
When silence speaks more than love ever thought.
With devotion, you stand by my side,
A lighthouse constant through the tide.

You offer respect like a sacred prayer,
In every look, in how you’re always there.
You validate the dreams I dare to voice,
And reassure me, love is not a choice.
It’s how you show up, again and again,
In sunlight and sorrow, through joy and pain.

And I, in turn, trust your soul’s design,
Accepting your shadows as wholly divine.
I see your strength, and I admire,
The way you rise from every fire.

Your worth, your heart, I deeply approve,
With every breath, I show my love.
And when your courage starts to fade,
I’ll be your echo - unafraid.

Appreciation fills my every vow,
To cherish the person standing here now.
Encouragement will be my gift,
A steady wind, a soul’s uplift.

So let this be the promise I keep,
To love you wide, to love you deep.
Where caring meets trust, and devotion meets grace,
That’s where our love has found its place.

I. On the Nature of Smiles
A smile is a sneaky, invisible thing,
It creeps from the lips without flutter or wing,
But lo! when it lands on a stranger’s dull day,
It tickles the sorrow and shoos it away.

It travels through coffee shops, crosswalks, and queues,
It softens the sternest of daily-day news.
It has no real price, no receipt, no command,
And yet it could cradle the world in its hand.

II. The Grand and Glorious Hug
Now don’t underestimate (please, if you can)
The power of arms - be ye woman or man,
To wrap someone up like a parcel of peace,
To hush all the mayhem and grant them release.

A hug isn’t just for when sorrow attacks,
It’s also for moments when courage just lacks.
So squeeze with conviction, be warm, be profound,
A hug is a poem that needs not a sound.

III. Words of the Small-but-Mighty Kind
“Oh dear,” said the teacup, “I fear I may chip,”
Till a kind word arrived with a stiff upper lip.
“You're perfect,” it said. “You still hold the tea.”
And the teacup beamed back with revived dignity.

A phrase, just a whisper, can shatter the storm,
Can nudge someone’s heart back to hopeful and warm.
So toss kind words freely like petals or rain,
They land where they land, and they soften the pain.

IV. The Call to Now (and Never to Wait)
Oh yes, you may ponder, you may delay,
But kindness, my dear, was never that way.
It’s not for tomorrow or someday or soon,
It thrives in the morning, the dusk, and the noon.

So don’t be a waiter in life’s busy line,
Be wildly, ridiculously, wonderfully kind.
You never shall know what your ripple will do,
But I promise you this: it starts right with you.

You’ve wandered long through shadowed lands,
With trembling heart and open hands,
The clocks spun slow, the sky turned grey,
Yet still, you rose to meet the day.

A thousand questions marked your pace,
Who am I now? What is this place?
But hush - the wind, it softly knows,
The soul still grows, the spirit flows.

You wore your grief like autumn’s coat,
Then shed it when the spring took note.
The stars watched on with patient eyes,
As you began to reorganize.

Your path, your pace, your whispered dreams,
No longer bound to old regimes.
You dared to laugh, to love, to try,
Beneath a less familiar sky.

And though you walk with aching feet,
The journey’s song is bittersweet.
You are not lost - you’re being led,
By threads of gold the Fates have spread.

So question all! The love, the lore,
The quiet "why," the distant shore.
You’re not alone - just newly found,
Among kind hearts, profound and sound.

Step forward now with trust, with grace,
The future waits to know your face.
For all that’s past is not yet gone,
You’re just becoming who you’ve been all along.