SEREN
For every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
In every lost soul, the bones of a miracle
In every lost soul, the bones of a miracle
She arrived with the first kindling of stars, bringing a piece of night with her that did not fade in the brilliance of the sunset. She could have been anyone, with her raven hair tousled by the ocean wind and her hands half drowned by the oversized sweater that rode low on freckled shoulders. Barefoot out of habit, still wearing her white sun dress in stubborn defiance of the season, with a dreamy smile lingering as an afterthought about her lips as she drifted towards her little sister. Could have, but was not; not with those weightless steps or the starlit aura that clung to her limbs.
"Hello, Flora," she greeted warmly, any nerves buried deeper than might be perceived. She opened her arms to the young woman, with a curious tilt of her head. "Are you a hugger? Hope I did not keep you waiting too long."
"Hello, Flora," she greeted warmly, any nerves buried deeper than might be perceived. She opened her arms to the young woman, with a curious tilt of her head. "Are you a hugger? Hope I did not keep you waiting too long."
In every dreamer a dream - we're unstoppable
with something to believe in
with something to believe in
