here are some of my ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ poems from my travels ;

Volume 3 [FINAL] A Cell Phone Novel The garden lives. After the darkness, after the door, after the silence-it still breathes. The white roses bloom again, not in sorrow, but in joy. Their petals open wide to catch the light, to remember the warmth of hands that once trembled and now tend. Birds sing without fear, bees weave their golden prayers, and the trees sway like old friends in no rush to speak. Life has returned. Here, in this sacred place-reborn from memory, watered by healing-the world is soft again. It is not without shadows, but the shadows are gentle now. Lessons, not threats. Echoes, not omens. The garden hums with clarity. With happiness. With the slow, steady rhythm of breath that has known pain and learned to sing anyway. - This story was originally published in 2017.

Volume 2 | A Cell Phone Novel The wake of the garden's farewell, Eira steps into a world reshaped by quiet magic and old memory. She carries with her a single white rose and a feather gifted by something unseen-symbols of what she has survived, and what she has become. But the world beyond the garden is not what she left behind. Far to the north, smoke coils from the heart of the forgotten mountains. Villages whisper of shadows walking in daylight, of flowers blooming black, and of red roses that burn instead of heal. Something ancient is waking-something that does not mourn, only hungers. Drawn by a call she cannot name, Eira journeys into a land fractured by grief that festers instead of blooms. Along the way, she meets others touched by sorrow: a soldier haunted by a voice he cannot silence, a child who remembers too much, and a woman with eyes like stormlight who speaks to fire. As the earth itself begins to tremble, Eira must decide what it means to carry not just her own sorrow-but the sorrow of a world. The white rose cannot bloom in this land of ash... unless she plants it herself. This is not a return to the garden. This is a walk through the fire. - This story was originally published in 2017.

Volume 1 | A Cell Phone Novel In a land where sorrow clung to the morning mist like silver dew, there bloomed a rose that no gardener had planted. Alone it stood, beneath the weeping boughs of an ancient willow, its petals the color of moonlight-pure, fragile, eternal. They called it the White Rose, though none dared claim to understand its magic. It bloomed only in the wake of a soul unfastened from the world, as if the earth itself mourned with fragrant silence. Eira found it on the seventh day after her brother's passing. The winds had shifted that morning, brushing her cheeks like the ghost of a hand once held. In the quiet of dawn, drawn by something she could not name, she wandered beyond the veil of frost-tipped ferns and into the Grove of Hollow Light. There, it waited. A single white rose, its bloom unblemished, crowned by a fine shimmer of morning's breath. Time seemed to slow, as though the forest itself held its breath. Her grief, heavy and colorless, pressed against her bones-but when she knelt beside the blossom, it trembled... and so did her heart. It whispered nothing, and yet she heard it speak. Loss is not an end. It is a transformation. From then on, the world spoke differently. Raindrops did not fall-they danced. The sun did not rise-it returned, golden with promise. Her sorrow did not vanish, but it began to weave itself into the fabric of wonder. Every rustle of leaves, every petal unfurling, became a memory reborn. Eira returned to the rose each day, and as she did, a garden grew. Not of her planting, but of her healing. - This is an original series from 2017.