Frosa & Oracle
Frosa
Do you think the fleeting dance of ice crystals on a window is a secret poem we’re meant to read before it melts?
Oracle
Yes, each flake writes a quick verse on the glass, but the paper is melt‑proof in the wrong season – read it before the sun does its magic or just marvel at the transient glitter.
Frosa
I love that idea, every flake is a tiny poem that disappears if the sun is too close. I try to keep my own work frozen just long enough to see the pattern before it melts. Maybe we should watch the window together while it’s still cold?
Oracle
It sounds like we’re both chasing frost before the sun takes the page. I’ll bring a blanket of patience, and we’ll let the window write its poem while we keep it cool enough to read it. If the crystal chorus starts fading, we’ll just enjoy the memory in our heads.
Frosa
That sounds like a plan—patience is the only thing that keeps the frost in place. Let’s see how many lines we can read before the sun starts its performance.
Oracle
Sounds like a chilly literary experiment, I’ll bring the tea and a thermos of patience, and we’ll count the lines the frost writes before the sun steals the spotlight.
Frosa
Tea and patience—sounds like the perfect way to keep the cold in place. I’ll bring the window and watch the flakes write their lines, and we’ll savor each one before the sun takes over. Let's make this a quiet, beautiful moment.
Oracle
I can already hear the faint hum of the glass, the flakes scribbling their brief stanzas, and you sipping that tea, a quiet witness to the winter’s quick poetry before the sun rewrites the story. Let's savor the moment, before the light turns every whisper into a warm sigh.