This post is from a low-reputation account and contains an unverified outbound link. Be cautious before clicking external links.
The young woman returns, walking lightly in the golden glow, her footsteps echoing on the tiles.
In her backpack, the remnants of a day's adventure linger.
They draw sweet and beautiful memories.
The wind gently brushes it like an old friend.
Yokiesha, the orange sky tells her of her intrigue, her house stands like a secret temple. A canvas of refuge and tea.
She opens the door, and all is still, as if the world awaits her faith. Her eyes shine with hidden tenderness, a light sigh, "Come back to life."
In her room, dreams awaken, with posters of heroes and paper wings. The light goes out, the stars alert, that begins her night of magic without problems.
And between whispers, she murmurs into the emptiness:
"Thank you, home. For being mine."