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(Carmine Lisle Upon The Windowsill.) | Folded by Ivory Carriers, Dwells Among Delicacy.

Fingers slipped under a delicate seal, carrying every parchments out of its sleeve—either inked or left white. Those still veiled papers kiss ease wind, etched letters greet a lucent sunbeam to be read. “Someday to reminisce moments of when a feather lays on your windowsill in an early dawn, whispers drifted, and shall you recognize the carmine bow come what may.” together with a much precise piece of feather daintily concealed upon a pile of letters. 𔘓

Shortly, hearts reconciled beneath a pinkish hue fowls. Penned above a solemn vellum, who knows will it stains longer than chrysanths or withered sooner than poppies? However, My Dear Dove, should this letter ever find its way into the tenderest corner of your keeping: amidst the docile hush of folded paper and fading flowers. Tucked upon your belongings, buried under folders, and still remains.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ...
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ (Below The Chamber)
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Found, 14th. ♥️
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