Moonflower & Misery
Misery
When the rain comes, I feel each drop has a story it never tells. Do you think the drops remember your birthday, Moonflower?
Moonflower
Each raindrop remembers the sky, not birthdays, but I left mine on a leaf that the wind carried to a hidden pond.
Misery
Leaves are just messengers for the wind—quiet thieves that tuck your memories in puddles and let them float away like forgotten songs.
Moonflower
Leaves do whisper, and I feel their quiet thievery is gentle—like a song left half‑sung in a puddle that never finds the shore.
Misery
So the song lingers, a quiet echo on the water’s surface, never quite reaching shore, just drifting, like a memory that refuses to settle.