|| Golden Hour Sips ||

I say I’ve changed,

Not in many ways,

But time has shaped me

Through countless days.

In my chain of thoughts, I walk, I run,

I stumble, I fall beneath the sun—

But now my heart no longer cries

For things beyond where control lies.

Now when the breeze touches my face,

It doesn’t bring you or your trace.

It sings of the woman, strong and kind,

With fire in heart and peace in mind.

She works so hard, she loves much more,

She gives her all, yet asks no score.

This breeze is hers—it lifts her high,

Her pride, her joy, beneath the sky.

This is her moment, calm and sweet,

With setting sun and tired feet.

Her cup of tea, her time, her space—

A world of stillness, soft embrace.

Within this sunset’s golden light,

Her eyes now shimmer, soft and bright.

She sees the birds fly back to nest,

And finds a quiet in her chest.

To her, this time’s a sacred thing—

A pause the busy days don’t bring.

And as the sky turns dusk and blue,

Her spirit soars and dances too.

It dawns the heart of a little girl,

Untamed and free, in a gentler world.

Her heart once bruised is now made whole,

And ventures out, a fearless soul.

In clouds that drift, she’s calm, yet wild,

Both curious and nature’s child.

She smiles at life, at joy, at skies,

With wonder blooming in her eyes.

And so she sits in quiet glee,

Each Sunday on her balcony.

The sky, the breeze, the fading light—

She holds them close, her heart made right.