A blessing found in quiet touch,
To help the mind let go of much.
Her soft feet dance upon his frame,
To soothe the ghosts without a name.
The aches he carried from the past
Are released and free at last.
She dwells within a youthful light,
A childhood joy, forever bright.
In a world that’s fair and kind,
This is the peace you’d always find—
A "guilty pleasure" at the door,
To heal the day and something more.
But shadows fallen under his chair,
No healing , no presence there.
The "guilty pleasure" stays a dream,
A distant, cold, and dying gleam.
He walks alone through heavy years,
With silent pain and unsaid fears—
A comfort lost, a vacant floor,
That knocks no more upon his door
Sikaran
November
2025
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