(۶ৎ..) They speaketh not of love, yet love abideth in all they do. In the hush that lingereth 'twixt their nearness, in the brush of fingers not quite touching, in the breath he holdeth when she smileth.
“It dwelleth there—true and tender.”
“In every silence, a thousand things said.”
▫️
No words are cast between them,▫️
no courtly vow nor bold confession,▫️
yet their souls know the shape ▫️of each
other, as the moon
▫️knoweth the tide. 💌 🫖.. He needeth not say she is his muse—for every stitch he maketh singeth her name, and she, though sightless, turneth ever to him, as though the warmth of his quiet heart were a star she can still see. 🌙
▫️