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Youtube stutters, a symphony of “maybes,”Each video a question, every beat a doubt.A thousand choruses, a million melodies,Yet none quite capture what our love’s about. From soaring anthems to whispered serenades,Each lyric hints at what we can’t express.Can waltzes hold the joy of whispered shades,Or punk rock anthems our foreverness? Will trumpets blare the triumph
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Crimson leaves ablaze,Whispering secrets to the wind,Nature’s fiery kiss.
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Clara, a bright young freelancer, lived and breathed by her laptop. It was her trusty steed, her portal to projects, her link to the digital world that paid the bills. One Monday morning, like a thief in the night, her laptop vanished. Her heart sank faster than the Wi-Fi in a Starbucks bathroom. Friends commiserated.
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We dreamt of bells and lace,Of vows we’d whisper and love lighting up our faces.But building dreams, like building dams, needs more than wishful singing,Decisions swarm like desert flies, our future plans left swinging. Should we head to town, or settle by a creek?Brick and mortar, dusty streets, or where the kookaburras speak?Will it be
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Ding rings the bell, as floor five marks my quest,Alone in this box, absence of thought, feeling blessed.No hurried suits, no grumpy teens,Just silence, steel, and sipping at my coffee beans. But then a shift, a shadow near,A furry form, of eliminating fear.A corgi king, with ears erect,His gaze unflinching, what are his plans, a
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The StoryTeller 