6. The Day I Chose Hope

Morning comes, unsure, obscure

but warmth persists, steady, pure.


Laughter drifts, a soft breeze moves

tiny sparks awaken grooves.


Today is chosen, nothing grand

just simple life, the world in hand.


Moments pass, soft and bright

hope carries gently into night.


Isn’t it strange how one day can feel just right?


😊


Poet: Vynolyn Naidoo


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




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