Tag: whimsical poem

Let’s Borrow a Little Joy

Come…

.

Let’s borrow
a little happiness
from the moon tonight.

.

Just a handful.

.

The sky
has been saving it
for someone
who still remembers
how to look up.

.

We’ll gather
a few golden sparkles…

.

not because
they’re rare,

but because
we’ve forgotten
how often they appear.

.

Let’s slip
a pocketful of stars
into this little bag.

.

I’m sure
the sky won’t mind.

It has never
counted its treasures.

.

And look…

.

the fireflies
have already found us.

Don’t chase them.

Joy has a funny habit…

.

it always comes closer
when we stop running after it.

.

Perhaps
one or two
will quietly wander
into our little bag,

bringing along
their tiny lanterns
for the days
our hearts
forget their own light.

.

A wandering breeze
might join us too.

.

If it does,
don’t stop it.

.

Some winds
carry the scent of flowers.

.

Some carry rain.

.

And some…

.

carry the quiet courage
to begin again.

.

Look…

.

the fog
is slowly hiding
the edges of the world.

.

Maybe that’s its way
of saying…

.

“Not everything beautiful
needs to be seen clearly.”

.

So let’s not hurry.

.

Let’s collect
whatever the night
is willing to share.

.

A little moonlight.

A little wonder.

A little impossible.

.

And just enough hope
to make tomorrow
feel a little kinder.

.

We’ll carry it home
in the simplest little bag.

.

Because happiness
has always preferred
ordinary pockets…

over golden boxes.

.

And if,
by morning,

someone asks
where all this light
came from…

.

let’s just smile…

and whisper,

“The moon was feeling generous tonight.” 🌙✨

.

Until we borrow a little more moonlight…
With love,
—Rajeshwari 🧿💕

© Nihshabd by Rajeshwari

July 2, 2026
Collecting Colours the World Forgot

Some people heal in silence,
some buy expensive candles,
and some of us stare at butterflies
like they personally pay our therapy bills.

.

I belong to the third category.

.

A butterfly passes by
and suddenly my entire personality becomes
“poet standing dramatically near window during rain.”

.

Honestly, embarrassing.

.

But tell me
how does something so tiny
carry an entire rainbow
without looking arrogant about it?

.

If humans had those colours
we’d immediately start a podcast.

.

Butterflies simply float around
like soft little reminders that
beauty does not need announcement,
only sunlight.

.

And perhaps a flower or two.

.

Sometimes I think
God created butterflies
on a Friday evening
when heaven’s creative team said,
“Let’s add glitter to nature
but make it emotionally intelligent.”

.

Excellent decision, truly.

.

Because look carefully
every butterfly feels like
a flying piece of weather.

.

A little barish.(rain)
A little dhoop.(sunlight)
A little khushboo (fragrance) of forgotten gardens.
A little magic stitched into wings.

.

Even the breeze behaves differently around them,
like the wind itself is trying not to be rude.

.

Meanwhile humans…
one inconvenience
and we become unpaid philosophers.

.

Wifi slow?
“Nothing in life is permanent.”

.

Tea cold?
“This world lacks warmth.”

.

But butterflies?
Zero complaints.
Just vibes and floral diplomacy.

.

I envy that.

.

I too wish to enter rooms
the way butterflies enter gardens
quietly, beautifully,
making everything look softer
without touching a thing.

.

Maybe that is why
I love colours so much.

.

Not loud colours.
Not festival-shop chaos.

.

I mean the gentle colours.

.

The glow after rain.
The pink hiding inside sunsets.
The golden smell of old evenings.
The blue that lives quietly in lonely skies.

.

Those colours.

.

The kind that do not scream,
yet somehow stay in your memory
longer than people.

.

But beautiful things usually are.

.

And perhaps that is the real magic
not becoming extraordinary,
but remaining soft
in a world training everyone
to become stone.

So if someday
you see me smiling at butterflies
like an emotionally unstable Disney princess,
please mind your business.

.

I am busy collecting colours
for the parts of me
the world tried to leave grey. 🦋✨

.

For hearts that romanticize rain clouds and tiny miracles. ☁️🦋

.

With love,

—Rajeshwari 🧿💕

© Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

May 16, 2026
🌙 “The Day I Lost My Daydream”🌙

What do you enjoy doing most in your leisure time?

Daydreaming🌙

I was quietly daydreaming,

like every normal kid does

building castles in my mind

with doors that never shut.

But suddenly, that day,

my daydream ran away.

It slipped out of my head

like a naughty child at play.

I chased it through my classroom,

past math and geography,

through whispers, chalk dust, sunlight

all shouting, “Dream’s running free!”

It hid behind the teacher’s book,

then jumped onto a cloud,

waved at me dramatically

like heroes in a crowd.

I almost caught it near my desk

but it giggled “Not today!”

Then it somersaulted mid-air

and drifted far away.

I stood there, half-confused,

half-laughing at its style

like seriously, my own dream

just left me with a smile?

But then things turned emotional;

my chest felt strangely tight

I missed the soft imagination

that tucked me in at night.

I whispered, “Come back, little dream…

I still need you to grow.”

And just then, like a magic trick,

a warm wind started to blow.

My dream returned quietly,

like a shy kid after school,

sitting back inside my mind

like it always knew the rules.

It said, “I left you for a second

just checking if you care.

Your heart still kept me safe,

so I knew I’d find you there.”

And since that day, I realised

something beautiful and true

dreams may wander far away,

but they always come home to you.

—Rajeshwari 💕🧿

January 25, 2026