can we be friends?

can we be friends…

if you find joy offline?

if you’d rather sit in the garden and watch birds than doomscroll on your phone?

if you spend your mornings in bed looking out of the window?

if you spend your sundays in pyjamas, doing nothing?

if you snooze your 7am alarm so you can steal a little more dream?

if you go out — just to hug trees?

if you stop and smell the flowers?

if you press them between pages you’ll forget to reopen?

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can we be friends…

if you notice?

if you know your neighbours?

if you bake muffins for them?

if you still call your mum just to chit-chat?

if you send letters from the places you visit, from the places you belong?

if you give the best hugs in the world?

if you can hold a stranger’s hand and tell them it’s going to be okay?

if you can lend your story to someone else?

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can we be friends…

if you know how to plant hope?

if you can give someone your heart, even knowing it might break again?

if you can cry and laugh at the same time?

if we can bury our sorrows together under the moonlight?

if we can sit in silence?

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can we be friends…

if you still roll down hills like a little kid?

if you can run to the ocean and let it pull you in?

if you can get lost in the crowds?

if you’re not afraid to daydream, to drift around?

if you smell like summer nights — sand and salt?

if you still get excited to see the moon, every single night?

if you don’t wait for a shooting star to make a wish?

if you carry small joys in your pocket, just in case someone needs it?

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can we be friends…

if you’re ready to be raw and vulnerable?

if you’re not afraid to build something tangible but soft, breakable?

something we’ll miss, forever?

on her ship tied to the mast
to distant lands
takes both my hands
never a frown with golden brown

If this post helped you breathe today, I would always be grateful for a cup of coffee.