In Her New Home

She steps adorned in crimson hues,
With jasmine strands and morning dews.
Her bangles sing a tender song—
Of roots once deep, now stretched so long.

Her eyes reflect both joy and fear,
A whispered prayer she holds so dear.
In every fold of silk and grace,
She searches for a sacred place.

The scent of henna, faint but true,
A mark of love, a life anew.
Between the smiles and whispered vows,
Her heart beats soft—unseen somehow.

Yet in this home, so wide, so still,
Where walls don't speak and time won’t fill,
She tiptoes through the silent air,
A stranger caught in others’ stare.

New voices hum a distant tune,
Strange rooms aglow beneath the moon.
Her laughter fades, her glances roam—
She aches to call this house her home.

Each glance a weight, each word a test,
Judged in silence, pressed to guess.
She walks on eggshells, thin and tight,
Hiding herself in the morning light.

No hand to hold, no space to fall,
Just watchful eyes and a whispered call.
She folds her dreams, keeps them inside—
And teaches her own soul to hide.

All she longs for: a place to rest,
A mother's touch, a warm caress.
A room where she can breathe and be,
Unseen, unjudged, and truly free.

But sometimes years will slip away,
And longing grows with each new day.
A lifetime spent to earn that grace—
Or never find her rightful place.

And still she carries hope unseen—
A silent flame, forever keen.