🌿That afternoon, poetry dripped from sunlight onto your fur｜
I always thought it was you who found me—
A universe of tenderness pooled in your honey-toned eyes,
Your feathery tail scattering time’s sharp edges into stardust.
🍃But spring was always a silver-tongued liar｜
You taught me how to catch dancing sunspots,
Yet vanished like morning mist when the world turned.
To those who walk past the meadow now—tread softly,
Lest you crush the crystallized memories buried in the breeze,
Those stubborn sweets that refuse to melt.