Weβve lived a thousand small lives together β
each one shaped by its own kind of weather.
There were days we burned bright,
and nights we fell quiet.
Moments that asked us to stay,
and others that taught us how to begin again.
Through it all, love has changed its shape β
from something we chased
to something we chose,
again and again.
The seasons didnβt break us β
they made us softer,
truer,
more whole.
And maybe thatβs what lasting love really is β
not the promise of endless summer,
but the willingness to hold each other
through every turning sky.
π― We are not who we were when we began β
we are the seasons we became.
