The Fragrance of Waiting

The city is loud, but here, the wind speaks in whispers.
I hold these blooms—hydrangeas and roses—not because I need to decorate my life, but because they remind me of how you look at me. A steady gaze that calms the static in my head.

My dress is light against my skin, almost like a second breath. Every time I turn, the lace dances with my heartbeat. It is a quiet rhythm—the sound of waiting for your hand to find mine again among the petals.

I want to tell you about the way sunlight feels on an afternoon walk. How it warms our shoulders until we are one shadow against the pavement.

You don't need words today. Just stay with me in this garden of blue and white, where time slows down enough for us to simply breathe together.

Editor: Pure Linen