The Whisper Journal


April 6,

With the cleanse of spring, everyone has a sense of joy about them. Even on the gloomiest days, we listen to the perforated silence, as the rain splatters against a shudder not quite fastened. That’s when you see her. For some unknown reason, you know to look. You stare in silence as the cool mist caresses your face. You remember that section of the park, when the beauty and the path she walks wasn’t born yet. You close your eye partaking its wonder. You whisper a spell to the beauty, hoping it will last

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