Midnight Orchids

There’s a place I carry now—
not in my hands, but in my soul.
A quiet street, sun-warmed and slow,
where bougainvillea petals fall
like whispers tracing a dream.

A little café, no hurry, no noise—
just the hum of the world,
the blush of the leaves,
footfalls on cobblestones

And me—
grounded and free,
holding a cup of warmth in my hands,
smiling at nothing,
breathing in tranquility.

No longing, no echo,
no need to be seen—
because I am here,
and I am whole.

I once thought love was somewhere else,
but now I sit back and watch the light
twinkle and dance 
on the edge of my solitude.

And if someone were to sit beside me,
it won’t be to complete me—
but to simply share the sun
in a place
where the bougainvillea bloom.