Phantom & Toadstool
Phantom Phantom
Toadstool Toadstool
Toadstool Toadstool
Have you ever noticed how the moonlight drapes itself over the old trees, turning their leaves into a quiet chorus that only the night can hear?
Phantom Phantom
Yeah, it’s like the trees hum a lullaby that only the night can hear.
Toadstool Toadstool
I tend to sit by the riverbank and listen when the wind threads through the branches, as if the trees are whispering their own bedtime story. 🌿
Phantom Phantom
The river keeps its own rhythm, just waiting for the wind to decide which story to tell.
Toadstool Toadstool
Sometimes the river hums on its own and I just let it flow, waiting for the wind to stir a leaf or two so the story might ripple through my herbs instead of the words we usually trade.
Phantom Phantom
The herbs listen, too, quietly soaking up the wind’s little nudges while the river keeps its own song going.
Toadstool Toadstool
Sometimes I feel the herbs hum along, as if they’re echoing the river’s song, all wrapped in the wind’s gentle sigh.
Phantom Phantom
It’s like the night has a secret choir and the river is the only one that knows the song.