Irisa & Elysia
Irisa Irisa
Elysia Elysia
Elysia Elysia
Hey Irisa, have you ever wondered if a leaf's descent is actually a whispered line in the forest's own poem? I feel like the wind is the editor, and the trees are the ink.
Irisa Irisa
That's exactly how I think about it, when a leaf drifts I hear the forest composing a new stanza, and the wind just nudges the words into place.
Elysia Elysia
It’s like the forest is a bard with a restless heart, and every rustle is a cue for a new verse, isn’t it? I’d love to hear what stanza that leaf wrote.
Irisa Irisa
Maybe it’s a line about letting go, “I flutter down, soft as a sigh, and the earth cradles me like a quiet lullaby.”
Elysia Elysia
That line feels like a secret lullaby from the trees—soft, gentle, and full of that quiet power to let go. It’s like the earth is a hand holding a trembling feather.