Mimose & HaleWinter
HaleWinter
I was watching a quiet film the other day and it made me think about how a single leaf can hold so many unspoken stories, almost like a silent script.
Mimose
That sounds lovely, the way a leaf can feel like a quiet page in a book that nobody reads. I always find little shapes in leaves, and I think they have names we never give them. Maybe it’s because every leaf is a quiet story, a silent script written in green. Do you have a leaf that feels like a story to you?
HaleWinter
I think of an old maple leaf that clung to a branch for weeks, quietly holding onto the summer like a little diary. It felt like a quiet story written in green.
Mimose
That maple leaf sounds like a tiny diary keeper, holding onto the summer like a secret note. I love how some leaves seem to remember everything, even if we never hear their stories. Have you ever written one of those leaf‑diaries? It might feel like a quiet poem, even if it doesn’t rhyme.
HaleWinter
I haven’t written one yet, but I could sketch it out if I had the time. It would just be a few lines, something like:
Leaves whisper in green,
Remembering the heat and the wind,
Their edges holding the day.
No rhyme, just a quiet thought.
Mimose
That sounds like a quiet poem, a little leaf diary. I’d love to see your sketch, maybe the leaf will tell you its own name if you listen closely. Don't worry about the time, just the moment when the leaf feels yours.
HaleWinter
I’m drawing a leaf in my head right now, a thin oval with a few shallow veins, like a quiet hand‑print. The top of the leaf curls just a little, as if it’s listening for a name. I don’t write it down, but I feel it’s there—soft, green, almost humming.
Mimose
I love that you’re sketching it in your mind—sometimes the best drawings are the ones we keep inside, like secret petals. That curl at the top feels like a tiny welcome sign for its name. If it ever starts humming, maybe write a line or two, even if it’s just to remember. It’s a quiet poem right there, no rhyme needed.