Beneath the shimmer of a Melbourne noon,
they walk—two souls in gentle rhyme.
His beard catches light like autumn wheat,
her dark glasses hold the mirrored sky.
The path curls softly through the garden’s breath,
where magnolias dream and shadows turn.
Two dogs bound forward, eager spirits
tugging laughter from their hands.
Each leash is a line of love, invisible,
woven between pulse and motion, step and sigh.
The air smells of cut grass and quiet hours,
the lake winks silver through the trees.
He speaks little; she smiles behind her sunlit veil
the kind of smile that ripples the day.
And so they drift, hand by leash by heart,
two figures gliding through green time,
their dogs like bright commas in the sentence of the world.
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