4. Singing Through the Storm

Gray mornings press, silence too near

but still a pulse can quietly appear.


A subtle song, a hint, a clue

belongings not something you outgrew.


Shadows shift, light moves along

tiny steps forward, doubts gone.


A hum drifts softly, faint but true

the world moves bright, just passing through.


Isn’t it odd how strength can bloom from few?


😊


Poet: Vynolyn Naidoo


© 2025 Vynolyn Naidoo. All rights reserved. Published online, created with care and passion.




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