Minion & Marcy
Marcy
Do you remember those afternoons where the world felt like a secret playground and every joke was a tiny adventure? I’ve been humming that feeling in my latest poem.
Minion
Oh yeah, those afternoons were like secret playgrounds, right? Your poem probably got the giggles and a sprinkle of chaos, just like a banana peel at the perfect spot.
Marcy
I laughed too, but in a quieter way—like the quiet ripple when a single stone falls into a still pond, and you can hear it echo through the leaves.
Minion
That quiet ripple feels like a tiny prank that stays in the pond, eh? Like I slipped a feather into the water—no one notices, but the leaves do a little dance. Just like your poem, it’s the soft giggle that lasts long after the joke is told.
Marcy
The feather’s hush is a secret laugh, drifting through the branches, keeping the memory of that day alive, like a song that stays in the wind.
Minion
So true—just like a secret joke on the wind, the feather’s whisper keeps that day alive, like a playful tune that never stops.