The Scent of Summer Between Us

I remember how the city used to feel—a concrete tide that never stopped rising, drowning us in deadlines and cold coffee. But then there was you, a quiet anchor in my chaotic sea.
Today, I rode my bicycle through the outskirts where the wind still tastes of wild grass and old secrets. The basket is heavy with peonies and daisies; they are not just flowers, but letters written in petals that I’ve been gathering for years to send back to you across time.
I can almost feel your hand on the small of my back as we once walked through these fields at dusk. My white skirt flutters against my legs like a soft heartbeat, and every rotation of the pedals is an invitation—come find me in this golden hour where the world slows down just for us.
You always said I looked most alive when I was chasing something invisible. Perhaps it was you all along. Now, as I pause beneath the shade of ancient oaks, I wait with a smile that tastes like sunlight and longing. Come closer; let me tell you how much I missed being seen by someone who truly knows my silence.

Editor: South Wind