By Anushka Sharma
Ooh, to be loved by a calm soul,
Who communicates instead to scold.
Ooh, to be loved by a calm soul,
Whose speaking tone is gentle and low.
A soul, whose presence speaks an endless embrace,
Who lets you unfold hidden versions of you with grace.
Someone who listens not to judge, not to fix,
But to hold your words softly, like gentle flicks.
A person, who doesn’t fear your fire,
They sit beside and offer quiet.
A person, who embraces your chaos,
And calls it canvas — beautifully blessed.
A love where silence is understood,
And a care of a kid as in childhood.
Where your dreams fly above in the sky,
And when you come back exhausted,
It feels like a safe, real, and pure site.
A calm soul, who never demands perfection,
A person, who invites storm with affection.
Where masks fall away,
And truth dares even shadows to stay.
A love, that makes you feel enough to be your true authentic self.
A love that makes you feel comfortable.
Where raw imperfections are appreciated.
A love that softens you, heals you, and makes you fall in love with yourself, too.
A love, that feels like exhaling breath after holding it for too long.
Like finding home in chaos, where hearts and silence belong.
It’s the warmth in winter, the calm in the storm,
It's the shadow in summer, the beauty and comfort of being in home.
A soul, that makes you believe perfection is a myth,
A soul, that makes your world a happy place.
Where crying is not a weakness, where anger is not an issue,
Where the only word you know
Is "here," where you’re seen beyond shadow.
Place where inner kid feels free,
Place where maturity holds hands with glee.
Where you understand your beloved,
Where you know their flaws and still choose to grow.
A house is then, a home,
When you know how to heal what the world left unknown.
A house is then, a home,
When you know how to love without needing to roam.
And until that love finds its way to me,
I’ll keep building dreams relentlessly.
With fire in my spirit and stars in my sight,
I’ll become my own warmth and my own light.
If I deserve a love as true as this poem shows,
Then first, I’ll be the garden where my own self grows.