There always lies the question / the poet or the muse? / to give my heart through letters / to wash his muddy shoes...

He waves at her quietly. This is a library after all. “Excuse me?” / “Hm?” / And she takes off her earphones. “Mind if I-?” / ...

Were you a flower / I would tend to my garden forever / I would weave you in my crown to proudly wear on my forehead...

The mist lifts / Not a wind blows / We meet / the path is lit, we know it well / past the water / through the grass...

She rode quietly along the road. As she made her way towards town it was clear she was no rider, yet she held the reins as if to mimic...