Strawberries fall into my palm, like time that moves so fast away. The summer wind does not speak loudly, it simply knows where it must stay. In this moment there is no hurry, no tomorrow, no yesterday. Only the warm touch of light remains on everything that’s left to stay. ⸻ And I don’t ask where this leads, this feeling that lives in silence. The sweet glimpse of wild strawberries, and a love that binds us in quiet. The summer wind carries us through all that words cannot explain. And everything we once were together rests somewhere upon the heart again. ⸻ You stood where the forest begins, and light was burning in your hair. I didn’t know that a single moment could become so silent, so rare. Longing was never painful, but like warm summer air. Something that does not want to leave, yet cannot stay anywhere.
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