Pieces of Me in You

I see myself in quiet eyes, In laughter that softens heavy skies. In voices that call me back from the dark, And hands that steady my trembling heart. You never said, “Be this or that,” But somehow, I bloomed where I sat. In every echo of kindness shown, I found a part I thought was gone. When I lost my way, you held the map, Not by leading—just by being where I sat. No labels, no titles, no need to explain, Just presence, like shelter from silent rain. In your stories, I hear my name, Not spoken loud, but just the same. A mirror held without demand, A soft reminder: I understand. So if I stand a little taller now, If I breathe with ease, not asking how— It’s because in the way you see the world, I found the pieces I never told.