Rain braided silver through the air, threading leaves with diamonds that trembled on green. I stretched out my palms, catching their chill, and thought: beauty is often just water learning how to fall.

This horizon feels like the start of something tender.

This isn’t scenery—it’s solace carved in sunlight.

This feels like the start of something gentle.

Your words draped molten vows around moss petals softly.

Your words pressed molten petals against the silver hush veins softly.

Reading this loops honey dusk into rivers of tangled hush.