Friendship
The Symphony of Quiet Pens
The sun rested just above the horizon like a shy dream, spreading golden warmth across the old park. The air smelled of wildflowers and morning dew, and the tall trees whispered their gentle secrets. On a quiet stone bench near the lake sat a young poet named Ayan, holding a notebook that was emptier than his mind. He dreamed of writing something beautiful—something meaningful—but inspiration slipped through his thoughts like sand through uncertain hands.
By Muhammad Saad 3 months ago in Poets
