“me”

I do not know your name, your dreams,  
What shape your laughter takes at dawn,  
Yet here you stand—between sunbeams,  
A story cupped in twilight’s palm.  

Perhaps you’re quiet, wild, or bold,  
A wanderer on city streets,  
Or in your eyes, a world retold  
With secret hopes and small defeats.  

Maybe you climb forgotten hills,  
Or sip your tea by candlelight,  
Read stories where the silence fills  
The gentle corners of the night.  

I do not know—but still I try  
To picture all that makes you, you:  
A fleeting glance, a wistful sigh,  
The dreams that only you pursue.  

So here—a little song I write  
In honor of your hidden spark—  
The way you rise, and hope, and fight,  
And carry light into the dark.

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