She smiles,
just a little,
and the tension in my shoulders
melts,
like snow on warm skin.

Her voice,
a low, steady current,
is like coming home.
This girl,
with her soft eyes,
and gentle words,
is…

the harbor in my storm,
the fire in my winter,
the reason I remember
how to breathe again.

She is the quiet promise
whispered in the wind,
that peace, at last,
might finally be granted.

She is the reason
my heart knows how to beat,
a melody both ancient
and eternally new.
She is sanctuary,
in its purest form,
a haven built of kindness,
and offered just to me.