When your gaze found mine, the whole world swayed, As if the earth had missed a hidden beat; The sunlight suddenly grew unafraid, Then melted like warm gold around my feet. I tried to look away, but something stayed, A trembling little universe in you; My eyes became two doors I could not close, And every secret seemed to wander through. I felt my cheeks turn roses in the rain, A sudden fire underneath my skin; The stars began to whisper my sweet shame, While little suns kept blooming from within. Your eyes were not just eyes, they were a place, A strange blue room where gravity was gone; I wandered through the silence of your gaze And somehow lost the person I was on. My heartbeat stumbled, then forgot its name, It ran barefoot through corridors of light; I blushed as though the moon had called me beautiful, Then hid my face from heaven's watching sight. The trees leaned closer, jealous of the view, The flowers opened wider just to see; Even the wind became unusually shy, As thoug...
Beneath white lights and whispered hours,
an elder rests on borrowed time,
veins tracing maps of many years,
a life now folded into a bed of steel.
Machines speak where strength no longer can,
soft beeps counting fragile breaths.
Doctors move with careful hands and eyes,
Doing all that knowledge still allows.
Hope stands quietly at the doorway,
afraid to step too close.
Charts say what hearts refuse to hear—
that survival is a fading word.
Children hold hands they once were held by,
their prayers trembling, unschooled in miracles.
Family gathers in sacred silence,
each tear a question heaven must answer.
“God,” they whisper into the night,
“heal what medicine cannot touch.
If not forever, then grant a little more—
a season, a year, one more sunrise.”
The room fills with faith and fear entwined,
where love kneels louder than despair,
and even as hope grows thin,
prayer refuses to let go.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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