Throughout the day,
in quiet passing moments,
there’s always something,
some gentle nudge,
pulling my thoughts toward you.

When I glance at the clock
there it is again:
3:33.
Numbers aligning,
perfectly placed,
whispering softly,
like the universe’s private joke,
telling me you’re somewhere
thinking, feeling,
existing
in the same world as me.

Sometimes,
in the heart of night,
I wake without reason,
eyes adjusting in the dark,
and there
again
the soft glow says:
3:33.
It’s quiet, familiar,
a cosmic wink,
the gentlest reminder
that life’s mysteries
tie me softly back to you.

In these tiny,
perfect alignments,
time pauses
just long enough
to whisper your name.
It’s the universe’s secret
and mine
this silent reassurance,
this quiet truth,
that somehow,
at 3:33,
shares a delicate moment
of connection.