SilentBloom & Dew
SilentBloom
Hey Dew, have you noticed how the leaves change color just before they fall? I think there's a quiet poetry in that shift, like a quiet sigh of the forest.
Dew
Yes, I see the leaves blush amber and rust before they drift away, almost like the forest is taking a quiet sigh. I get lost in that quiet poetry.
SilentBloom
It’s like the trees whisper their own lullabies, don't you think? Each rustle feels like a secret story tucked into the wind.
Dew
Absolutely, every rustle feels like a secret lullaby the trees hum to the wind. I often hear their stories in the quiet fall breeze.
SilentBloom
They must be singing about endings and beginnings, a quiet lullaby that only the leaves can hear. It feels almost like they’re writing a poem for us in every sigh.
Dew
They do, humming the quiet poem of endings and beginnings. I can almost hear the leaves whispering their verses, as if writing a secret lullaby just for us.
SilentBloom
It feels like the wind is carrying their verses, and I can almost feel the words drifting into my thoughts, like a soft brushstroke on a canvas.
Dew
Yes, the wind is the brush that paints those verses across our minds, a gentle reminder that every ending is just a new beginning waiting to unfold.