Midsummer Nymph

Amber Musk • Saffron • Dahlia Petals • Sandalwood • Pomegranate
 
She belonged to the orchard and the spaces between things. The kind of girl who left half-eaten fruit on mossy stones, laughter caught in low branches, and the faintest trace of her skin in the sun-warmed air.
 
There was a restless kind of joy to her—bright and untamed, with juice-stained fingers and bare shoulders warmed by late afternoon light. She moved through tall grass like she already knew you’d follow, collecting moments like wildflowers and letting them scatter behind her as she went.
 
The air shifted when she passed—ripe with pomegranate and sunlit saffron, sweet and sharp like something tasted too quickly. Dahlia petals lingered in her wake, soft and flushed, while sandalwood and amber musk stayed low and golden on her skin—like sunlight caught at the edge of a disappearing afternoon.
 
She never stayed long enough for you to ask her name. She never needed to.
 
For the Untamed Heart.