You pick spring blooms whilst the willow leaves brush past your face, a squirrel flees from your path as you walk forward, and a swallow peers down as though curious and bemused. The water ripples gently against the soft gale and you see a boy, upon the other side. He is doing as you do, many a chrysanthemum in his hands as he kneels by the water and draws images of bliss and beauty in the pond. Beautiful reality it is, you may never see him again. Or he may be whom you see for the remainder of your life, a smile in the dim dawn.
🌷
ESTÁS LEYENDO
☄.*REVERIE. ⋆
Historia Cortashort stories, poems, povs etc and idk ps i wrote this when i was 15 🙏
