Cumquat May walks barefoot  
through the month that bears her name,  
a citrus‑bright wanderer  
with pockets full of sunrise  
and a laugh that ripens the air.  

Tay Jeune moves quieter,  
a dusk‑coloured thought in motion,  
carrying the soft weight of questions  
like stones warmed by a river.  

When they meet,  
the world tilts—  
May’s bright tang against Jeune’s cool hush,  
two seasons brushing shoulders,  
two languages learning each other’s weather.  

They trade small treasures:  
a peel of light,  
a folded shadow,  
a promise that neither must become the other  
to walk the same road.  

And so they do—  
one bright, one gentle,  
a duet of difference,  
moving forward through the strange,  
sweet orchard of becoming.  

💋🍎🎯🦁