Pramita Kaur Sidhu

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Flags Of Quiet Souls

In the quiet rhythm of forty-four years flown,
I've come to discern flags in the souls unknown,
those shades of green, waving softly, unseen,
in the hearts that whisper where silence has been.

They dwell in the friend who listens, not for reply,
who hears every crest and each low sigh,
a patience of spirit, serene and true,
a gesture of care in the gentlest hue.

In lands where the monsoons in chorus sing,
I find green flags in eyes that bring
more than answers to life's daily quest—
eyes that honor the silence, the pause, the rest.

These souls, like soft rivers in patient delay,
walk at a pace that feels worlds away,
and say, "Take your time; I'll walk by your side, "
a melody found in the river's glide.

It's the tender honesty, neither bold nor sly,
those who gaze straight and do not deny
a truth warmed in kindness, simple yet rare,
the courage to stay, the promise to care.

And there are those who let laughter rise, free,
unafraid of joy's vast, buoyant sea—
even when shadows fill the light,
they shine like green flags in the depths of night.

For in years of choices, the swift and the slow,
I've learned of the ones who help us grow,
rooted like oaks in a forest serene,
a haven of life where breath is clean.

As I pen these thoughts, by grace I stand,
beside those who wave, in colors grand,
their flags of green, quiet and true,
souls that mean, and simply do.

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