Along Flagstaff’s lawns, where noonlight drifts and stays,
They walk in quiet, measuring their days.
A carton cradled like a modest truth,
Greens and grain—the earnest fare of youth.
Her sleeve is folded inward, thought held fast,
As if the moment asks to not move past;
He studies leaves and flavors, small, precise,
As though the world were legible in rice.
Behind them trails the blur of other lives,
The practiced solitude the city drives;
Yet here, two shadows overlap the grass,
A private council as the minutes pass.
Garden paths, you learn this daily art:
That love begins in sharing, not in heart
In reading menus, walking side by side,
And letting simple things become the guide.
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FE 135mm f1.8 GM
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