In moonlight's hush, a rose does bloom,
Soft petals kissed by starry plume.
She leans into the silver night,
A whisper bathed in twilight's light.
No thorns to harm, no roots to bind,
Just drifting dreams the stars designed.
In silent grace, they intertwine-
The moon, the rose, the soft divine.
Following
Sign up to join the largest storytelling community
or
Story by Lune Roselle
When He Called Me Soft
He was raised to fight.
She was raised to feel.
In a war-torn world where magic scorches the skies and loyalt...