My grandmother once gave me a tip: “In difficult times, move forward—bit by bit. Don’t gaze too far, don’t drown in despair, Just take small steps—you’ll get there.”
Wash the dishes, sweep the floor, Fold the laundry, mend once more. Write a letter, stir the pot, Tend the garden, plant a thought.
You see? You’re moving, step by step, Not leaping ahead, but finding your breath. Take a moment, pause, be still, Rest a little—gather will.
Then another step, then one more, What once felt heavy won’t feel so sore. You won’t notice the weight has shifted, That time has passed, that grief has lifted.
One day soon, you’ll raise your face, And dream again with quiet grace. The future won’t seem like a storm or sigh, But a path that glows beneath the sky.
So in winter’s garden, plant with care, Hope is resting, waiting there. Let the cold soil whisper true: Spring will come—and so will you.
