Coffee & Silky
Coffee
Did you ever notice how the steam rising from a cup of coffee has its own quiet choreography, like a tiny dance that could spin a poem in the air?
Silky
It’s like the steam is a shy ballerina, twirling just enough to stir the air into a poem that lives only for a breath, and I find myself caught in that fleeting rhythm, wondering if my own heart can ever keep up.
Coffee
It’s amazing how something as light as steam can feel like a whole story in motion, and I think our hearts are built for that kind of fleeting dance, even if it feels a bit shy at first.
Silky
I love that thought—like the steam is a secret narrator, and we’re the audience, watching our own quiet choreography unfold, even if we’re still learning the steps.