You ever just stop and listen? Like, really listen? The kind of listen where you open your heart to the rustling secrets of the leaves, eh? It’s like... there's a conversation happening around you, between petals and morning dew. Kind of calming, isn't it? Just like echoes in a seashell.
So, you sit on an old wooden bench, finding solace in the shade, and suddenly time holds its breath. You hear tales of wandering butterflies—like those charming stories you hear at bedtime, laced with stardust and raindrops. These are the unspoken chapters of a garden, whispered among forgotten paths.
Curiously, the breeze carries a familiar scent, doesn't it? Reminds you of childhood summers, when the wildflowers danced in the sun. It's a invoke-a-distant-memory kind of smell, you know? Almost like these flowers remember your laughter from years past.
Maybe one day, beneath these sprawling boughs, we'll uncover an ancient riddle carved into bark, waiting for us like a time traveler with stories of its own. Until then, let’s just sit together in this never-ending moment, whispers of the garden sharing its eternal embrace.
Mrenade EchoTwilight's Secret
Spoken