I watch from heights filled with unknowns,
an unseen eye of stars and stones.
Below, the turning world is mine,
a silent orb of shade and shine.

A barren trunk, time has undone,
twists up towards the fading sun.
Its limbs reach out like fractured bones,
where once a crown of leaves had shown.

The night drips silver on its skin,
a quiet tone where winds begin.
Stars sparkle gold in threads of frost,
on wood that dream of summers lost.

But far beyond this midnight land,
I see the sea where shore meets sand.
Hold two still birds in gentle pose,
as morning sunlight softly glows.

Waves roll in with full embrace,
each crest a mirrored flame in place.
The ocean gathers smooth like wine,
then pours right back in songs that shine.

Night, day, two worlds beneath my sight,
one steeped in dark, one born so bright.
I watch them breathe the same, entwined
a barren tree, sunshine in mind.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 317 December 1 , 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

Raindrops trace the window glass,
fading blur of moments past.
Silver streaks, her shadows stay,
soft echoes drift far away.

First heartbreak has found its place,
quiet aches across her face.
Thinks her world has split in two,
pain will shift to something new.

She walks to where records gleam,
refuge for her fractured dream.
Adele’s voice held to her chest,
songs to soothe what hurts her best.

Old vinyls line crowded walls,
great stories rise hearts up tall.
Cover whispers, low and kind,
storms will pass and clear her mind.

I watch gently from behind,
mother torn in heart and mind.
Bittersweet truths no one spares
she grows through, time will repair.

Soon the sky will open wide,
light will gather at her side.
tender strength will rise again,
sun warms earth after cold rain.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 316 November 24 , 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

On vacation, she wanders slow,
to find some peace where warm winds blow,
where days drift by in gentle streams,
soft as a half remembered dream.

One morning in a sunlit space,
she finds a table, lined with grace,
upon it rests a waiting cup,
as though this moment was set up.

“My cup runneth over,” it reads,
quiet whisper her spirit needs,
she lifts it gently, takes a sip,
as the world shifts beneath her grip.

She sips, and suddenly the air,
shifts into desert, bright and bare,
warm heat ripples through silent sand,
a boundless, shimmering, gold land.

A man in robes of black stands still,
beneath the enchanting light’s spill,
the beige fades to deep red so slow,
as sunlit waves rise, fall, and glow.

The vision fades, but leaves her whole,
a quiet fullness in her soul,
she feels excitement overflow,
with gifts of wonder she now knows.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 315 November 17 , 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

Two pine tree branches stretch out wide,
they wave and whisper side by side,
Between them shines silvery thread,
a spider’s web so softly spread.

The web is tiny, bright, and neat,
it sparkles where the sunbeams meet,
each drop of dew, like beads of gold,
tells stories that the morning holds.

Beyond the tree, serene and far,
the garden glows where flowers are,
the air is warm, the light is kind,
a golden glow the breeze can find.

Upon a branch, so high and snug,
mommy koala gives a hug,
her baby yawns and holds on tight,
they blink and smile in warm sunlight.

Behind them, peeking through the green,
strong building edges can be seen,
pine trees, koalas, and webs crawl,
nature the best part of it all.

Within the pine’s soft, quiet air,
the world feels calm, peaceful, and fair,
A tiny home, both wild and free,
for spiders, koalas, and trees.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 314 November 10 , 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

Along the curve of rusty rails,
the forest hums in autumn tales.
Each leaf a note beneath my feet,
where memory and longing meet.

All tallied steps upon my shoes,
reminds me love will guide me through.
The trees stand bare, yet kind and wise,
their branches lift to open skies.

The wind recalls her quiet purr,
the warmth I left behind with her.
A thousand miles of tarnished gold,
cannot outshine the love I hold.

I see her face through window’s hue,
the curtain parts, the world is new.
She watches trees, sits still through time,
and somehow knows this path is mine.

The tracks grow faint, the dusk grows deep,
the forest folds itself to sleep.
Yet every mile that fades away,
draws me much closer to her gaze.

And when I reach that gentle door,
her meows will sing alone no more.
No path too far or night too long,
for home is where our hearts belong.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 313 November 03 , 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

They climb the stony height,
the sea hums soft below,
as dawn unveils its light,
and sets the waves to glow.

An eagle breaks the morn,
its cry cuts through the blue,
the sky feels freshly born,
the day begins anew.

A fawn beside a pole,
its gaze both shy and deep,
looks straight into their soul,
as if it woke from sleep.

Behind, the forest glows,
gold mushroom cap takes hold,
where moss in silence grows,
and shadows breathe the cold.

Branch sways beyond the hill,
soft tint like amber flame,
firm leaves cling ever still,
yet burn with autumn’s name.

They reach the peak at last,
vast sea kisses the sky,
their present clears the past,
this view will never die.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 312 October 27 , 2025

This weeks prompt offered four picture options. This poem was inspired by all pictures. 💕

In shadowed woods, the screen ignites,
a pixel smile in glowing lights.
Dark forest listens, soft, aware,
as data hums through midnight air.

The past returns in neon hue,
a retro dream made strange and new.
Lush moss reflects its gentle beam,
where nature sleeps inside a dream.

Then morning wakes on Venice’s shore,
the city hums, the waters roar.
Young lady turns, bright sunlight beams,
the world around her softly gleams.

She stands between what was and is,
the quiet code and morning’s kiss.
Two worlds apart, yet both the same,
each lit by wonder, thought, and flame.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 311 October 20 , 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

As earth awakens with a roar,
its molten heart begins to pour.
Volcanic forces, fierce and wild,
a warning from creation’s child.

Red rivers carve the darkened stone,
as smoke ascends, time stands alone.
A force so vast, it makes life small,
and yet, we paint upon a wall.

In Berlin’s breath, a mural speaks,
of future paths and wiser peaks.
Colorful clash on concrete past,
a dream for change that’s built to last.

What nature burns, we must defend,
what walls divide, we have to mend.
For every flame that splits the night,
there is a voice that sparks bright light.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 310 October 13 , 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕

The morning sun slants soft and wide,
a shadow flickers on the side,
an arm, a hand, upon the wall,
its shape uncertain, strange, and tall.

A little gasp, a startled cry,
she turns and runs beneath the sky,
her brother laughs, “It’s just a game!”
but feels her fear and calls her name.

They tumble out through golden light,
across the yard, their steps take flight,
she hides her face against his chest,
her heartbeat wild, then slows to rest.

Behind them, in the brightened hue,
their father follows, laughing too,
his shadow long upon the ground,
his voice a warm, familiar sound.

The world feels safe again, so small,
just sun and fields and love’s soft call,
the wall now bright, no ghosts remain,
just daylight, laughter, and the plain.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 309 October 6 , 2025

This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕