Henrietta Ezegbe

Roots in shifting soil,
A quiet strength in the change —
Flourish in the now.
...

Keeper of endings and beginnings,
you move softly through golden light
whispering surrender, renewal
and faith in what the eyes cannot see.
...

Salutation Is Not Love
Nostalgia is a storyteller,
and she lies beautifully,
softening the edges of moments
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A meet in the blur of ordinary days
a spark caught between passing gestures
words exchanged like fleeting constellations that promised warmth but lived in shadows
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Quiet door closes—
my heartbeat walks out in light,
new peace blooms within.
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Some meetings are not arrivals.
They are crossings.

You walk beside someone
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Longest night softens,
from solstice roots,
the sun remembers how to rise again.
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Cracks, once thought of as failures,
small ruins in the shape of a life,
carried in shame, hidden from sight,
unaware that dawn was waiting.
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Placed high,
on a pedestal carved from admiration,
words like gilded offerings,
eyes that saw only brilliance.
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They held on for so long,
clinging to shadows of what was,
to echoes of a voice
that no longer sang in tune.
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These days, the heart believes again,
not wildly, not recklessly,
but with the quiet certainty
that comes from surviving long enough
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First, the ecstatic joy of meeting
Fire sparks go off, love is in the air!
In tow follows the sad extinguish
O modern dating, just like clockwork.
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Once upon an enigma
With pearls for teeth, they seem to live to smile
Ever beaming from inside out
With gold for a heart, their aura serenades
...

Pretty sure this happened.
Or maybe not?
Cold night on call
Walking the site pavements alone in the dead of the night
...