Under the ancient arms of a banyan holding its roots softly whispering into the dreaming heart of earth, dawn spilled golden silk through leaves that sang about eternity. Mann stood, his soul a lyre strummed by her nearness—Cassette, his melody woven from starlight's sacred loom, her presence a hymn that cradled the heavens. "Her eyes were soft as the first blow of the monsoon; oceans of vows within them went unspoken; each look, a lotus blooming in the tender hush of the sky." Her smile was dawn itself, a sunrise painting the world warmed, a radiance whispering the word forever. "Cassette, my tide of dreams," he said, just as low as a river of embers.
She stepped, breathed near his ear and sweet but fleeting pressed her forehead against his, their warmth a psalm where time knelt in reverence. "My Mann, my shore of starlight," she whispered, her words caressing truth spun from softest thread: "My sky where my sudden spirit soars; the haven where my heart blooms eternal; the only hymns of my soul." Their love was a firebrand of glowing coals like that which kindles by melting poetry out of gentle hugs. A kiss upon the brow, forehead to forehead, with souls stitched by devotion's golden needle, touches made verse forever. Mann took her into his arm about her head hidden under his chin as her heartbeat echoed the rhythm of his own, sacred chant of union. He brushed upon her forehead whereby each touch was a stanza of care singing through her veins. "Cassette, my starfire's vow," he sang, his voice a tide of warmth, "Your heart is my temple; your love, my boundless sky; every verse of my being is soaked in your radiant name."
She stepped near, breath a jasmine zephyr sweet and fleeting, warmed her forehead against his, and prolonged warm silence, like a psalm, where time knelt bare in reverence. That was a promise; those were near the heaven of holding a star. "My Mann, my shore of starlight," she whispered, her words a caress spun from truth's softest thread, "you are the sky where my spirit soars, the haven where my heart blooms eternal, my soul's only hymn." Their love was everywhere in the homes of sentences, sonnets of warm intimacies-hugs that spun dreams together, kisses that sang of devotion, a tapestry woven with the truth of essence, pledges made by every touch to love beyond every distance traveled by the farthest stars.
And now, a breeze stirred-up soft but heavy with low-flying promises and faintly looming like the dusk's gentle hand maybe just. Mann, with his soul a castle of fire, pressed her tighter to him and kissed his brow with a tenderness beyond the approach of any storm. "Cassette, my heart's only hymn," he vowed, his voice a flame that burned through doubt, "No tempest will ever dim your light, for you are my dawn, my tide, my forever bloom, my love's eternal vow."