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A Pocketful of Joy by Mishty Singh
A Pocketful of Joy by Mishty Singh Joy doesn't always dance in paradesor call your name from mountaintops.Sometimes, it drifts in quietly the same way light pools on windowsills,the same way a breeze remembers your hair.
It hides in mismatched teacups,in songs that start slow and end in smiles,in the rustle of pages at midnight,and the comfort of socks pulled just right.
A butterfly doesn’t know how much wonder it carries.A laugh, once shared,can echo longer than any storm.
These are the things we tuck in our pockets,not loud, not bold, not grand,but soft like petals lost in journals,blooming when we understand.
It hides in mismatched teacups,in songs that start slow and end in smiles,in the rustle of pages at midnight,and the comfort of socks pulled just right.
A butterfly doesn’t know how much wonder it carries.A laugh, once shared,can echo longer than any storm.
These are the things we tuck in our pockets,not loud, not bold, not grand,but soft like petals lost in journals,blooming when we understand.
More from Mishty Singh ↓
- @mishty_22writes on Instagram
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By Maggie DeversA Pocketful of Joy by Mishty Singh Joy doesn't always dance in paradesor call your name from mountaintops.Sometimes, it drifts in quietly the same way light pools on windowsills,the same way a breeze remembers your hair.
It hides in mismatched teacups,in songs that start slow and end in smiles,in the rustle of pages at midnight,and the comfort of socks pulled just right.
A butterfly doesn’t know how much wonder it carries.A laugh, once shared,can echo longer than any storm.
These are the things we tuck in our pockets,not loud, not bold, not grand,but soft like petals lost in journals,blooming when we understand.
It hides in mismatched teacups,in songs that start slow and end in smiles,in the rustle of pages at midnight,and the comfort of socks pulled just right.
A butterfly doesn’t know how much wonder it carries.A laugh, once shared,can echo longer than any storm.
These are the things we tuck in our pockets,not loud, not bold, not grand,but soft like petals lost in journals,blooming when we understand.
More from Mishty Singh ↓
- @mishty_22writes on Instagram