When soft moss blooms thick on the rough brown bark,
And the forest breathes in silver light,
I think of someone with verdant eyes
A fae I met in a book one night.
Each time the rain falls, and snails crawl slowly
Across the lawn so soft and shy,
I think of him, the summer prince,
Like a delicate dream beneath the sky.
He once held court in lands of trees,
Where sunlight danced through endless June.
Now all I have is the scent of a page,
And a sigh soaked in the cold monsoon.
~Roshini ✨