Leaving Breadcrumbs Poem, by gray0328, at My poetic side

There’s a stranger who hums a tune

you once heard your mother sing softly

on a Saturday filled with open windows.

A book falls open to the exact page

that whispers what your heart secretly

needed but never knew how to ask.

The universe has small hands, you see—

tipping teacups just before they shatter,

dropping you into rooms full of laughter,

or silence heavy enough to teach.

Coincidences wear no name tags,

carry no reason, but they carry you—

timing their pace with your footsteps

as if they’ve known your rhythm forever.

There’s a beauty in being nudged gently,

without a voice announcing intention

but a sharp tug at the seams of doubt.

As if God is showing you the trail,

but never leaving a single fingerprint,

to remind you this path is still yours.

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