Therapy Bits

Beneath the stars, we sketched a plan,
Not written bold, but soft and wan—
A whisper shared from soul to soul,
A rhythm set with no control.

You said, “Let’s go,” and so we went,
With every breath, a dream was spent.
No path was marked, no sign was shown,
Yet consonance in hearts had grown.

The night hummed low, the trees stood still,
Their leaves in tune with silent will.
No need for maps when spirits dance—
The world moves on in consonance.

A plan may fade, a goal may shift,
But trust, like stars, gives night its lift.
And when we go where fates align,
Our steps compose a sacred line.

Monday Poetry Prompt: Plan, Go, Consonance | Living Poetry