III. The Gentle Season

Part of a poetry novella

There was a time the world stood still,
Beneath a sky of softened gold,
And every breath, and every thrill
Felt warmer than the myths of old.

You laughed�"and even silence bloomed,
The air itself began to sing.
The hours like young roses loomed,
And time forgot its withering.

I did not ask how long we'd stay,
Nor dared to look beyond the dawn,
For even sorrow lost its way
In light that briefly lingered on.