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Adedeji Nusaybah
Still a student and a channel owner @ A student of lagos state University
In Literature, Writing and Blogging 1 min read
Quiet hands
<p><br/></p><p>I used to count my worries  </p><p>like coins in a tired palm,  </p><p>spend them all on tomorrows  </p><p>that never came to call.  </p><p>I bargained with the midnight,  </p><p>traded sleep for "what ifs" and "maybes",  </p><p>until my chest felt heavy  </p><p>with all the lives I’d never live.</p><p><br/></p><p>But today the rain wrote softer  </p><p>on the roof above my head.  </p><p>It didn’t ask me to be ready,  </p><p>or to have answers, or to be ahead.  </p><p>It just fell, steady and patient,  </p><p>washing the windows of my mind,  </p><p>and I let the small things stay small  </p><p>instead of making them lead.</p><p><br/></p><p>Give me mornings without proving,  </p><p>no lists, no rush, no borrowed pride.  </p><p>Give me evenings that don’t need a speech,  </p><p>just silence that sits by my side.  </p><p>Give me a cup gone warm in my hands,  </p><p>a window with light leaning in,  </p><p>and a heartbeat that’s finally within reach —  </p><p>quiet, steady, and mine again.</p><p><br/></p><p>I’m learning that peace isn’t loud.  </p><p>It doesn’t announce itself or demand a crown.  </p><p>It’s in the pause between two thoughts,  </p><p>in letting the world turn without me for a while,  </p><p>and finding I’m still here when it does</p>

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