Where the Sun Waits for Our Names

They stand at the edge of tomorrow,
not asking what comes next,
but listening for the echo
of a promise older than breath.

The water keeps their reflections.
The earth keeps their footsteps.
the flowers keep their stories —
each bloom a memory
that chose color over silence.

They do not speak of destiny.
for they know:
The future is not a path to follow.
but a seed to tend,
watered by gratitude,
rooted in lineage,
opened by song.

And when the sun lowers its voice
to the hush of evening,
it will find them still there—
four hearts, one heartbeat,
holding the world in place
the way love always has:
quietly,
together,
enough.