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Conversations with My Inner Child

There’s a younger version of you still living inside — the one who was silenced, misunderstood, or told to “be strong” when all she needed was to be held. She’s not gone.…

God, I Trust the Process, But It Hurts Sometimes

There are moments when faith feels like a quiet ache, when you’ve done everything “right,” yet the answers still don’t come. When the waiting feels endless, the wounds still ache, and hope…

She Put Her Love in the Bank

There comes a moment in every woman’s life when she looks at her reflection and says: “Enough.” Enough of settling. Enough of waiting. Enough of surviving. This poem was born from that…

What I Chose Instead

I walked away
not because I stopped caring,
but because I finally started
caring for me.

I’m Scared to Love Again, But I Wish I Wasn’t

There’s a unique kind of fear that grows after heartbreak, not the fear of being alone, but the fear of being open again. Of letting someone in. Of believing in love after…

I’m So Lucky

I’m so lucky,
and I don’t say that lightly.
Not because everything has gone perfectly—
but because somehow, everything I needed
found its way to me…
even when I didn’t know I needed it.

Happy Mother’s Day Love.
Yes, I’m talking to you.
To the girl who was still becoming a woman
when life whispered “You’re going to be a mother.”
You didn’t run — though you trembled.
You stood — though your knees buckled.
You said yes — even when fear screamed no.

For The Firstborn Daughter

To the firstborn daughter who became a provider before she became a woman.To the ones who carry entire lineages in their hearts and bank accounts.This poem is a mirror, a prayer, a…

Dear Mama

There are women who raise us, and then there are women who save us—sometimes they are one and the same. This poem is a love letter to my mother: the woman who…

Becoming Soft Again

There comes a time in every woman’s journey when survival no longer feels like living. When being strong, guarded, and always in control starts to feel like a cage. This poem is…

When I Have the Means, I Will Go

I have not yet crossed oceans or watched my breath
rise on mountain peaks at sunrise.
I have not tasted saffron in Moroccan souks,
nor run barefoot through cherry blossom rain.

The 7 Streams Of Income

It began not with gold, nor glitter,
But with a whisper inside my chest—
A soft rebellion against lack,
A promise to my son,
To my soul,
That I would not merely survive,
I would flourish.

Where My Soul Comes Home

For me, a dream home is more than luxury. It’s where everything is intentional — curated to nurture creativity, rest, joy, and legacy. It’s a place where I, my dreams, and my loved ones thrive.

I Don’t Want to Grow Up

If you’ve ever felt like growing up meant leaving behind the best parts of yourself, I see you. But here’s the truth: you’re allowed to rewrite the rules. You’re allowed to be both responsible and radiant, structured and spontaneous, healed and still healing.

If Gold Grew in My Hands

Have you ever dreamed of a life where money isn’t a limit, but a gateway to deeper joy, adventure, and generosity? In this poem, I step into that dream — not just…

In the Hands of the Stars

Have you ever felt like life was moving too slowly for your dreams — like you were stuck waiting for a destiny that kept missing its appointment with you?I know that ache…

The Quiet After the Storm

Overthinking once ruled my life — planting seeds of fear, doubt, and imagined disasters in moments that should have been joyful. I spent years trapped in endless spirals, rehearsing pain before it…

The Love I Deserve

There is a love I’ve always dreamed of —not the rushed kind, not the conditional kind,but a love stitched from attention, tenderness, and playful devotion.A love that feels like fireworks and home…

I Was Always Meant for More

In the silent seasons, when the world seemed to forget me, I learned to remember myself.This is not a story of overnight success — it is a story of endurance, whispered prayers,…

My Solo Ice Cream Date at Sno Cream

Discover Sno Cream Nairobi — a cozy ice cream spot perfect for solo dates, family outings, and affordable sweet treats. Here's why you’ll fall in love at first bite!

To The One I’m Still Hoping For

Somewhere in the spaces between heartbreak and healing, hope quietly blooms again. This is a letter to the one I'm still hoping for — the love that feels like a soft landing, the partnership built on mutual healing, growth, and unwavering choice.

Loving Myself First, Always

There’s a special kind of power that blooms when a woman decides she’s enough. This poem is for every girl who gave too much, stayed too long, loved too deeply before learning…

Thank You for the Lessons, Not the Forever

Some goodbyes aren't meant to be reversed — they're meant to be revered.
In this letter, I write to every past love, every faded friendship, and every version of me that thought she had to earn love.

Maybe Was Never Enough

I didn’t mean to fall for you.
I didn’t mean to hope.
I didn’t mean to build silent castles in my mind,
one soft conversation, one sweet gesture at a time.

Forgiving Myself

There are moments in healing where the hardest person to forgive is yourself.For the love you gave too freely. For the red flags you ignored.For staying when you should’ve walked away.This poem…

Letter to My Younger Self

There’s a kind of healing that words alone can’t touch — but somehow, letters whispered to the parts of ourselves we had to leave behind find a way.This is my love letter…

Abundance Is My Birthright

If you ever needed a reminder that you were born enough — born to thrive, to receive, to live a life of breathtaking joy — this is it. “Abundance Is My Birthright”…

The Day I Decided to Heal for Real

There wasn’t a grand announcement.
No parade, no fireworks, no perfect morning where everything felt easy.
It was quieter than that.
It was the softest breaking open.

You Were My Yes

You were never a mistake.
You were never too much.
You were the best thing I never knew I needed —
until I held you and realized,
my heart had simply been waiting to meet you.

The Day I Chose Myself

There was a time I begged for crumbs,
thinking it was a feast.
A time I watered deserts,
hoping something would bloom.