Ode to the Starry Sky

O boundless sky, where light and shadow intertwine,

Your jeweled crown rests gently upon the night’s embrace.

A thousand quiet whispers shimmer in your glowing gaze,

Sharing dreams that drift beneath your serene expanse.

O stars, wandering lanterns upon velvet waters,

You move in ageless, celestial patterns.

Each flicker hums a soft and solemn melody,

Rousing the spirit from its uneasy slumber.

O moon, tender guardian of silken light,

You guide the realm where dreams take shape.

Across dusky hills and deep untamed forests,

Your gentle radiance rekindles the heart’s resolve.

O night, the world seems still beneath your watch,

Yet pulses with wonder, mystery, and quiet exhilaration.

Under your veil, we dream, we yearn, we reach,

Seeking truths only you are willing to reveal.

O star-crowned night, your beauty humbles me—

A fleeting glimpse of infinite eternity.

Within your silence I find peace, awe, and joy,

O endless, luminous, tender starry night.

The Quiet Hands

He was the youngest—untamed, carefree,

A boy of laughter beneath the mango tree.

No worries touched him, no shadows grew near,

His father’s shelter made the world clear.

Barefoot he ran, his days a song,

Untroubled by right, unworried of wrong.

Childhood blossomed like a fleeting dream—

Life flowed softly, a warm golden stream.

But time, like seasons, shifted its face.

Books in his hands, he entered the race.

From play to work, from night to dawn,

Responsibility deepened as years moved on.

He left the games, he left the sun—

Now he was the one required to run.

His parents’ gaze grew soft and dim,

And all their burdens settled on him.

He rose each morning, shoulders straight,

Carrying hopes, carrying weight.

No praise, no song bearing his name,

Yet silently, steadfastly, he stayed in the game.

Men’s labour is quiet, their struggle unseen—

They build tomorrow, they keep life clean.

I watched my father through shadow and light,

Offer his strength for our future bright.

He let go of dreams, of rest, of time—

For our small lives he gave the prime.

A mother’s love is spoken in every story,

But a father’s ache hides behind quiet glory.

So remember these steady, quiet hands—

Who build homes, futures, and far-off lands.

A boy once wild, now a man so true:

His silent labour is love, shining through.

Acrostic Poem

Few may witness her quiet side at first glance,

But those who do find a friendship worth the chance.

Her smile is gentle, her spirit sincere,

She warms the world softly to all who draw near.

In laughter she sails her shyness away,

A happy-go-lucky spark brightens the day.

Her humor is simple, yet glimmers with cheer—

A radiant presence we’re grateful to keep near.

Zeal fuels her journey—ambitious, alive—

Chasing her dreams with a determined drive.

No mountain too daunting, no night too long,

Her heart keeps steady, her will remains strong.

Zest carried with grace, in every ambition and pace,

Though emotion still colours the smile on her face.

She feels every moment—each joy and each strain—

Yet rises again, stronger with each refrain.

A rare kind of soul—gentle, fearless and true,

An introvert’s heart cast in bold golden hue.

Hardworking, loving, and beautifully free—

Fizza is becoming who she’s destined to be.