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When your gaze found mine #lovepoem #surrealpoem #poetrydaily

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...
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The old woman and her Jungle House. #shortstory

Deep in the jungle, where paths forget themselves and birds grow silent, stood her house. It leaned as if it were listening, its walls darkened by years of secrets. People said going there was a journey with no return—and those who laughed at the warning were never seen again.

The old lady lived alone. No family, no friends, no visitors she didn’t invite. Her smile was famous in nearby villages, but not for warmth. It was a tight, bloodless curve of the lips, stretched too carefully, as if it had been practiced in a mirror for decades. It never reached her eyes. Those eyes were always busy—measuring, planning, deciding.

She was mean in ways that didn’t shout. Her cruelty whispered.

Beneath the house was a basement carved into the earth, damp and airless. That was where people disappeared to. Travelers who needed rest. Relatives who trusted blood too much. Strangers who believed old age meant weakness. She locked them away and broke them slowly, not with chains alone, but with time. Years passed underground. People forgot their names. They became hands, backs, shadows—slaves to her quiet commands.

No one was special to her. Not cousins. Not nephews. Not those who shared her bloodline. Love had no meaning in that house. She needed no one, and that was the most dangerous thing about her. Loneliness did not frighten her—it empowered her.

Above ground, she moved calmly, tending her plants, cooking her meals, smiling at anyone unlucky enough to cross her path. Hypocrisy clung to her like perfume. Evil lived in her patience, in the way she waited for the right moment.

Those who thought they could leave learned too late: the jungle listened to her. The house obeyed her. And endings came suddenly—unexpectedly—like a door closing where a future once stood.

The old lady remained alone, just as she preferred. And the jungle kept her secrets well.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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