The dawn raises its fingers
and unfolds the lotus petals, one by one.
The gleaming sun rose,
its scintilliating rays kissing the branches of the trees
and the singing birds perched upon them.
As the wind caresses the lotus creepers,
dragonflies hover over the lake,
and we sit together, in tranquility,
my head on your shoulder.
Perhaps this is what they call π¦π΄π€π’π±π¦β
the state of being with someone and simply existing.
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 3:54 AM UTC
The dawn raises its fingers
and unfolds the lotus petals, one by one.
The gleaming sun rose,
its scintilliating rays kissing the branches of the trees
and the singing birds perched upon them.
As the wind caresses the lotus creepers,
dragonflies hover over the lake,
and we sit together, in tranquility,
my head on your shoulder.
Perhaps this is what they call π¦π΄π€π’π±π¦β
the state of being with someone and simply existing.
