You may not see where it will fall,
or if it’s noticed much at all.
But in the earth or heart or sky, it blooms where hope and love can lie.

 So cast it freely, let it fly,
like seeds the wind will scatter high.
No need to know how far they’ll go - just keep throwing, let it grow.

Shaped by what was, fuelled by what’s near,
Both dreams and memories guide us here.

Memories fade and shift with time,
Dreams push us forward, make us climb.
Here, in the now, we have the chance
To live, to change, to take a stance.

Dreams give us hope, memories soothe,
But it’s the present where we move.

Not if the wind will guide me home,
but when it finds my steady pace.

The stars don’t ask if they may shine—
they simply glow, by design.
And so do I, without a doubt,
My light is too strong to flicker out.

I love my life, my strength, my grace,
I don't chase ifs, nor beg for whens.
I never question storms or night—
I am a woman born of light.

Clouds that wept, skies dim and grey,
Dreams fading, swept away.

The other saw green leaves so bright,
Washed anew in the softened light,
Sky clearing beyond the haze,
Whispers of blue through the misty maze.

Two people, side by side so near,
One saw gloom, the other cheer,
Both looked through the same glass frame,
Yet no two views are quite the same.

For the heart decides the sight we find,
Through the window of the mind,
And what we see, dark or bright,
Is coloured by our inner light.

But today, it brightens your face.
And warms your heart with a gentle embrace.

It invites you to a joyful dance,
Where every step is a chance.
In its golden dance, you'll never be on your own,
Just follow its warmth, and you'll feel right at home.

The sun is life, and here we stay,
No worries of books or taps today.
To-do lists can wait till tomorrow’s dawn,
Let’s be here for each other, from dusk till morn.

Today, let’s live, let’s love, let’s laugh,
Embrace the joy along our path.
In each other’s warmth, we’ll find our way,
And in this moment, we’ll be happy today.

I had to fly with friends to Kai Tak,
Hong Kong, flight Five Nine Three.

Bags were packed, the taxi on its way,
Not long was left to wait.
Oh, my eyes can’t see…
I couldn’t help but faint.
My heart just stopped without pain.

Six doctors and nurses then arrived,
I missed the flight and so survived.
Flight Five Nine Three went into the floor,
Seventy-five hearts would beat no more.
Three hundred limbs lay scattered
As all those lives were shattered.

I knew, I saw a black streak on snow,
Heard the loud, mournful howls
When my heart just stopped,
Protecting me from the flow.

I still often cry in quivers,
My body shakes, my heart shivers.
But grateful for the chance to be here,
With people who are so dear!
And I’m grateful, beyond measure,
For the gift of life, my greatest treasure.

But they don’t feel the thousand cuts,
The silent ache that never shuts.

There’s no clear path, no easy guide,
To heal the hurt you hold inside.
All I ask, with all my heart -
Please, just survive, hold on tight.

If I could, I’d take your pain,
Hold you close through every strain.
Cry with you, through all the storm,
Until you find a place that’s warm.

It’s kindness done when no one sees,
Respect that moves with natural ease.
It’s care that listens, heart awake,
A promise kept for love’s own sake.
Not only thrills, but what endures—
But everyday things that make love sure.

Love’s not a flame that fades to dark,
Not lovers wandering without spark.
It’s not a fire that burns then dies,
But warmth that rests in steady eyes.
It’s skin that knows it’s truly known,
A sense of safety deep and grown.
It’s passion felt yet calm, refined—
Desire that’s joined with heart and mind.

Love isn’t loud or built to show,
It steadies us through high and low.
It’s patience when the day feels long,
The courage found to right a wrong.
It’s giving space when hearts need room,
A presence strong enough to bloom.
It’s action more than what we say—
A steady love that lights the way.

Love isn’t flawless, smooth, or still,
It bends, it aches, yet holds by will.
It chooses truth when doubts run near,
Stays steady through another’s fear.
It learns through time, through loss, through grace,
A patient strength we learn to face.
It’s how we live, forgive, and start—
The faithful work of heart to heart.

on a stone heart.
Not sharp,
but relentless.

It says nothing…
yet speaks
of distance,
of absence,
of not being missed.

I listen for echoes
that never come,
holding my breath
between moments
that stay empty.

Even a whisper
would feel like touch.
Even one word
could mend the crack.

But silence?
Silence screams.
And the longer it stays,
the more I disappear
inside it.

The choices we make, the paths we find
Shape our hearts, our souls, our minds.

A moment slips, like sand through hand,
Gone forever, hard to understand.
No hands can turn the ticking clock,
No waves can bring the past to dock.

So walk with care, but keep moving on,
Let your heart to guide you home.
For though the past can’t be undone,
The future is shaped by what you’ve begun.

He twists the winds, he lifts the tide,
Destroys, devours, and makes hearts sting.
The world is drowning, bending, torn -
I brace myself for what’s in store.

The wind howls like a demon caged,
It screams my name; it calls me prey.
Dark clouds arise, the sea enraged,
The ground beneath me shakes, gives way.
Will I still stand? Or will I drown?
Will silence claim me when winds die down?

The rain strikes hard, the day turns black,
The walls around me start to sway.
The roof above shakes overhead,
Will all I love be swept away?
Will I still see the morning light?
Or fade into the endless night?

My mother’s voice, a phantom near,
Soft whispers drowned by thunder’s call.
She'd hold me close, erase my fear,
Say, "My little girl, you're safe, stay strong.
No storm can steal the light in you,
The dawn will rise and pull you through."

And where are they — those ‘friends’ I knew?
No hand to hold, no words, no sound.
Not one to ask, "Are you there too?"
Their silence drowns me, pulls me down.
If they don’t care, if they won’t stay,
Then why should I let them remain?

I loved them all with all my soul,
Through every storm, through every fight.
I gave them warmth, I made them whole,
Yet they have vanished in the night.
Alfred has torn the veil away —
False friends were just dead leaves in May.

When Alfred dies and sun returns,
I will still breathe, I will still stand,
But bridges burned will cease to burn,
For I will sever every strand.
Erase their names, delete them fast,
Their time in my life — gone at last!

No ghosts will haunt, no chains remain,
No empty echoes whisper lies.
My phone will breathe, my soul unchained,
No weight of those with hollow ties.
The storm is cruel, but it is wise —
It shows truth through battered skies!

Laughter that lifts me, the colours of spring -
These are a few of my favourite things.

Bright blooming flowers and books filled with wonder,
Clouds full of mischief and distant storms' thunder.
Dancing with vacuum while my phone rings -
These are a few of my favourite things.

Days when my loved ones feel joyful, not blue,
Sunbeams that sneak through the curtains at noon.
A brush in my hand to see what it brings -
These are a few of my favourite things.

When I feel low,
When time just stings,
I think of these joys,
And my spirit sings.

The only part of her that speaks
when words will not.
It lingers, then bursts alive
in colour, in texture,
on canvas, on paper,
where grief once lived,
and now—
a language of her own.

Her mind is a restless traveller.
It dances through memory,
then pauses,
then runs headlong into new beginnings.
It questions,
it wonders,
it circles back,
but never stands still.
It revisits yesterday,
but never stays there,
and always looks for tomorrow.
It knows:
curiosity is not a burden,
but a gift.

Her room, her world,
is a map of her soul.
Brushes, paints, palettes,
poppies in bloom,
a sketch waiting for colour.
Shelves of books,
some written by her own hand.
Pages of poems,
unfinished thoughts,
all waiting to be born.
A kaleidoscope of memory and hope:
a testament
to her stubborn tenderness.

She smiles easily,
yet has cried oceans.
She does not hide her tears—
they water her roots.
She abhors falseness and cruelty,
adores kindness,
and gives more warmth
than most could hold.

Music moves through her veins.
Once, piano keys beneath small hands,
later, Swan Lake before her eyes,
always a refuge,
a second language
when words and colours are not enough.
She feels music as others feel touch,
a pulse that steadies her heart.

She is loyal beyond measure,
a mother whose daughters
are the centre of her sky.
A friend who gives,
sometimes too much,
and learns, again and again,
to keep some of her light for herself.

She laughs at the ridiculous,
treasures the meaningful,
and would rather hold silence
than waste a moment
on the trivial.
She loves the sea,
the smell of rain,
the spark of new learning.
Her curiosity never sleeps.

She looks for real people,
for sensitivity,
for presence,
for laughter that is true.
Her strength is not in armour,
but in the courage to feel.
Her love is never halfway.

As women go, she is, well…
A Curious Woman

Gave love freely, received it too,
Held many close, stayed strong and true.
Through kindness and art I found my way,
Embraced life’s colours day by day -
And gave my grateful heart its way.

I faced the sorrow, walked through the rain,
Learned from each moment, grew from pain.
Never let sadness turn me cold,
But softened instead, and gently bold.
I gave with heart, in quiet ways,
A smile, a hug, a word that stays -
Love was the light that shaped my days.

I stayed true to what felt right,
Chose my values over others’ sight.
Let go of what I couldn’t control,
Forgave, and freed my heavy soul.
I cared for myself, not perfectly so,
But tried with patience, soft and slow -
And found the peace I’d come to know.

I saw the beauty in small things -
Morning light, the joy it brings.
Warm tea, a laugh, a gentle breeze,
The quiet hush beneath the trees.
I never needed something grand,
Just life unfolding, hand in hand -
Yes… I am Living a Beautiful Life

Not every strength is written in the news,
or lifted high for crowds and lights to see.
It lives in women walking life’s long roads,
in love that stands where life demands to be.
In women rising slowly after loss,
in hands that hold the world together still,
in hearts that keep on giving through the storms,
with steady courage and unbroken will.

In women caring more than words can show,
in lives that carry more than eyes can see,
in warmth that moves through every life we know,
in grace that shapes the world as it should be.
So on this day — the eighth of March — I say
with gratitude for strength that still endures:
to every woman walking her own way,
the living world stands stronger now through yours.

Strength is a choice we make each day,
not polished words that drift away.
It rises when the road turns steep,
when promises are ours to keep.
It stands its ground through doubt and ache,
through every risk we choose to take.
Not luck, not fate, not chance alone—
but will that says: I’ll carry on.

Strength is the will to truly care,
to notice when the load we bear
is heavier than words can say,
or smiles attempt to hide away.
Not hoping loved ones will be fine—
we ask, we listen, read the signs.
We take the seat beside their sky:
not watching storms — we fly nearby.

Through doubt and strain, through loss and ache,
strength is the stand we choose to take.

By those who walked with us a while,
who gave their hand, who gave us smile.
They lent us strength when ours was small,
and helped us stand when we might fall.
Their kindness stays in what we do
and steady trust still leads us through.

Some saw in us a light so true,
far more than we ourselves once knew.
They did not push, they didn’t demand,
but helped us grow and slowly stand.
They gave us space to find our way,
to speak our truth, to live, to stay.
And what they gave remains inside,
a stronger self, no need to hide.

Yet not each heart that journeyed near
was guided by the same sincere.
They knew the door, they knew the key,
they knew the place of trust in me.
Then turned to silver, and betrayed
the very bond our trust had made.
A Judas echo, sharp and clear —
when faith meets loss we didn’t fear.

Some stay for years, some pass us by,
some lift our hearts, some ask us why.
Yet every soul we journey through
has shaped the self we slowly grew.
Through open hand and hidden card,
through what was kind and what was hard,
we come to see how we are formed —
each heart has played its shaping part.

I stand in the present, steady and free,
no longer living a life not for me.

I can bring light that softens the view,
but only you can feel what is true.
Warmth can surround you, tender and kind,
but no one can open another’s mind.

When I stopped reaching into the grey,
my own horizon showed the way.
All that I gave to another sky
returned as strength, and here to stay.

The fog may feel like a place to remain,
where nothing is asked, where nothing feels strained.
Yet colour lives where the air is clear,
where life feels warmer, more open, more near.

A gift may wait like a vein of gold,
but life only changes when hands take hold.
Even deep love, all kindness we give,
cannot choose how another will live.

I am remaining where light is bright,
where colour awakens the sense of sight.
If ever you walk toward my light,
you’ll find home in the warmth of my heart.