These poems breathe of memory and longing — petals pressed between pages, voices that vanish yet linger, love that burns even in absence. Each verse is a fragment of the soul, tracing grief, tenderness, and rebirth in the quiet music of life. All the words, the devotion, the ache are mine for I cannot write what I do not feel, nor muse for those who do not breathe art. Numbers fade, but words live etched like stubborn ink
