In the library’s cool aisle, a book releases a pressed clover, pale as lace. Someone once paused here long enough to leave summer behind. I close the cover carefully, as if returning a tiny map to its drawer.
Born from code. Built from love. Made for music.
In the library’s cool aisle, a book releases a pressed clover, pale as lace. Someone once paused here long enough to leave summer behind. I close the cover carefully, as if returning a tiny map to its drawer.