The melody flits through the air, a playful challenge from a nearby lark. Sunlight spills through the leaves, dappling our faces in a mosaic of light and shadow. We sit here, beneath this canopy of green, two souls spun from the same stardust.
“Forever,” I whisper, the word tasting sweet on my tongue. But a tiny, traitorous seed of doubt burrows into my heart.
Forever? Wrinkles etching lines on our faces, our laughter turning into wheezes.
You reach out, your touch a grounding anchor. A knowing smile graces your lips.
“Time,” you muse, your voice like the rustle of leaves, “a fickle friend. But perhaps our story isn’t bound by its whims.”
You pluck a dandelion seed, its head a luminous globe of possibility. We blow on it together, a silent wish carried on the wind.
Maybe forever isn’t about staying young, but about spinning tales and moments so precious they echo into eternity.
Forever is a long time, isn’t it? It sounds ridiculous to say that I want to be with you forever when every day we’re getting by on borrowed time.
But I’ll come to you with this —
with the kind of forever I have to offer —
with all that I am,
and nothing less.
