Chapter Text
“From the First Bus Stop”
There were two children,
each carrying dreams too big for their tiny hands—
one with piano keys stitched into his palms,
the other with satin ribbons laced around her ankles.
He had eyes like twilight,
mischief curled beneath dark lashes
and a smile that could turn summer winds playful.
She had a laugh that made flowers bloom faster
and a quiet grace that made even silence hold its breath.
They met beside a rusty old bus stop,
where mornings smelled of dew and schoolbag dust.
She looked down when she spoke.
He talked enough for both of them.
They played.
They grew.
Their shadows lengthened with the setting sun.
He played basketball with scraped knees and a grand piano in his soul.
She danced in quiet corners of classrooms,
her movements whispering secrets to air and light.
They became each other’s first habit,
each other’s first comfort,
each other’s first almost.
Some stories grow like trees.
Roots deep beneath memory,
branches tangled in forever.
Because love like theirs doesn’t ask permission.
It simply begins,
and never ends.
This is their story—
from the first bus stop
to the last sunset.
From tiny dreams
to a shared life of music and movement.
From strangers,
to best friends,
to soulmates.