The sun dipped low, painting the sky in soft gold as Thaleia sat beneath the olive tree, her scroll resting on her lap. Her heart raced as she thought of you—your laughter, your smile, the way you lingered in her thoughts long after you’d gone.

Her fingers hovered over the parchment, the quill trembling. Words came easily to her when they weren’t about you. But now, as she began to write, she felt her cheeks warm, her love spilling onto the page despite her shyness.

I dared not speak of you, For fear the stars would fall And reveal their secrets. But oh, how my soul stirs At the thought of your smile— A blossom blooming at dawn.

You linger like a whisper, A shadow in my thoughts, Stealing my breath, Unraveling me with every glance. I am undone.

If I could, I’d gather the sea, Its waves and endless song, To lay at your feet. If I could, I’d carve your name Into the sky,

So even the gods might envy its beauty. But here I sit, Quill trembling in my hand, The words are mine, Yet they belong to you.

Thaleia stared at the finished poem, her heart pounding. She folded the parchment carefully, holding it close to her chest. One day, when courage overcame fear, she would give it to you. Until then, her love would remain safe in the quiet folds of the page.