The walls once echoed with our names,
A choir of love, of laughs, of games.
Now silence sleeps in every room,
Where memories bloom through quiet gloom.
We fought like storms, we hugged like peace,
A home of chaos laced with ease.
But time, the thief with gentle hands,
Took pieces none could understand.
Some left with words they never said,
Some stayed but felt like ghosts instead.
Yet still I rise on what we were,
A softer soul, a fiercer stir.
For even cracks in family trees
Let in the light through autumns breeze.
Were built from roots, but not confined
I grew my wings, I found my mind.
So here I stand with scars and grace,
Still shaped by every known embrace.
Not every bond survives the strain
But love, once real, will still remain.
Haya Alhajri (21st century) Qatar
Source: Poetry.com
A choir of love, of laughs, of games.
Now silence sleeps in every room,
Where memories bloom through quiet gloom.
We fought like storms, we hugged like peace,
A home of chaos laced with ease.
But time, the thief with gentle hands,
Took pieces none could understand.
Some left with words they never said,
Some stayed but felt like ghosts instead.
Yet still I rise on what we were,
A softer soul, a fiercer stir.
For even cracks in family trees
Let in the light through autumns breeze.
Were built from roots, but not confined
I grew my wings, I found my mind.
So here I stand with scars and grace,
Still shaped by every known embrace.
Not every bond survives the strain
But love, once real, will still remain.
Haya Alhajri (21st century) Qatar
Source: Poetry.com
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