Weeping willows bow with secrets whispered only to the grass. Butterflies ease drop and carry the song on their fluttering wings only to brush against her cheek. She flushes like the nearby rose still covered with morning dew. She finds blue eyes watching her and knows the secret came from you.
Thoughts, writings, social commentary, and some photography by David Mei. Warning intended for an adult audience if you are not the age of majority where you live, leave now.
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