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.
