Jardin Secret.
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waft wistwise ‘neath the brumous afterglow. wind-churn’d russet litter doth skitter ‘cross the fallow sward, whilst ochre boughlets dip in the waning gloam. evenfall, all wan and wraithlike, hems the hedgerow draws its veil athwart the coppice.
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reminiscences conversational detours with absolutely no destination in sight—an odd accumulation, almost accidental, yet strangely indelible. irish, inside that delightful disarray, your name became synonymous with familiarity closer to instinct than sentiment. peculiar thoughts could arrive intact, silence never required justification. thank you for receiving friendship without demanding a more polished version of it first. life can feel particularly cacophonous at times, but certain people possess way of making surrounding world feel less foreign. you became one of those people without either of us needing to declare it 🌀🧚🏻♀️💌
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days could be graceless, moods could moulder, everything outside could turn utterly strange. thank you for being the kind of friendship that feels like home, having both of you around makes world feel a little less cumbersome. if home could ever take human form, perhaps it would look a little like the two of you.
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