Their laughter rises like the tide, arms laced in rhythm, hips swaying to a silent drum only they can hear. The moon watches tenderly, casting a silver spell over wind-swept skirts and bare feet. Here, beneath a sky brushed in ocean blue and midnight whispers, joy is ancient — passed from soul to soul, step to step.
Their laughter rises like the tide, arms laced in rhythm, hips swaying to a silent drum only they can hear. The moon watches tenderly, casting a silver spell over wind-swept skirts and bare feet. Here, beneath a sky brushed in ocean blue and midnight whispers, joy is ancient — passed from soul to soul, step to step.