HOME | DD

Description

In the quiet corners of an ancient city, Where cobblestone streets wind like forgotten tales, A little girl named Eliza danced with delight, Her laughter echoing through the moonlit veils.

Eliza, with eyes wide as the night sky, Curious and bold, her spirit unchained, She wandered the alleys, seeking magic, And that’s where their extraordinary bond began.

High atop the cathedral’s weathered spire, Perched in stone silence, a gargoyle stood, His name was whispered only by the wind— Gideon, the guardian of dreams misunderstood.

His stony wings stretched wide, forever frozen, Yet his eyes held secrets, a universe untold, For Gideon had witnessed centuries pass, And yearned for a friend to share stories of old.

Eliza, with her wild curls and patched dress, Climbed the spiraling stairs, her heart alight, She met Gideon, moss-covered and ancient, And they exchanged smiles in the soft moonlight.

“Hello,” she whispered, her voice a fragile thread, And Gideon’s eyes softened, a hint of surprise, “You’re real,” he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder, “Most mortals flee, but you seek my stony guise.”

They sat together, under the star-studded sky, Eliza and Gideon, an unlikely pair, She told him of skipping stones in the river, And he shared tales of lost kingdoms and despair.

He spoke of gargoyles who once danced at dusk, Their wings brushing constellations, hearts unbound, And Eliza listened, her imagination ignited, As if the very stars whispered secrets around.

They laughed at the absurdity of their friendship, A girl and a gargoyle, side by side, Eliza traced the cracks on Gideon’s weathered face, And he marveled at her courage, her spirit undenied.

Through seasons they met—the sun’s warmth, The rain’s tears, and the snow’s hushed breath, Eliza brought wildflowers, and Gideon guarded them, Their bond defying logic, transcending life and death.

And when the city slept, Eliza whispered her dreams, Gideon listened, his stony heart thawing, He promised to watch over her, even when storms raged, Their friendship etched in moonbeams, forever drawing.

For Eliza knew that friendship bloomed in the cracks, Where moss and ivy intertwined with ancient stone, And Gideon, once solitary, found solace in her laughter, Their secret shared—a little girl and a gargoyle, alone.

So if you wander the cobbled streets at twilight, Look up, and perhaps you’ll glimpse their silent dance, Eliza and Gideon, bound by magic and wonder, A friendship that defied time, and circumstance.

Description

In the quiet corners of an ancient city, Where cobblestone streets wind like forgotten tales, A little girl named Eliza danced with delight, Her laughter echoing through the moonlit veils.

Eliza, with eyes wide as the night sky, Curious and bold, her spirit unchained, She wandered the alleys, seeking magic, And that’s where their extraordinary bond began.

High atop the cathedral’s weathered spire, Perched in stone silence, a gargoyle stood, His name was whispered only by the wind— Gideon, the guardian of dreams misunderstood.

His stony wings stretched wide, forever frozen, Yet his eyes held secrets, a universe untold, For Gideon had witnessed centuries pass, And yearned for a friend to share stories of old.

Eliza, with her wild curls and patched dress, Climbed the spiraling stairs, her heart alight, She met Gideon, moss-covered and ancient, And they exchanged smiles in the soft moonlight.

“Hello,” she whispered, her voice a fragile thread, And Gideon’s eyes softened, a hint of surprise, “You’re real,” he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder, “Most mortals flee, but you seek my stony guise.”

They sat together, under the star-studded sky, Eliza and Gideon, an unlikely pair, She told him of skipping stones in the river, And he shared tales of lost kingdoms and despair.

He spoke of gargoyles who once danced at dusk, Their wings brushing constellations, hearts unbound, And Eliza listened, her imagination ignited, As if the very stars whispered secrets around.

They laughed at the absurdity of their friendship, A girl and a gargoyle, side by side, Eliza traced the cracks on Gideon’s weathered face, And he marveled at her courage, her spirit undenied.

Through seasons they met—the sun’s warmth, The rain’s tears, and the snow’s hushed breath, Eliza brought wildflowers, and Gideon guarded them, Their bond defying logic, transcending life and death.

And when the city slept, Eliza whispered her dreams, Gideon listened, his stony heart thawing, He promised to watch over her, even when storms raged, Their friendship etched in moonbeams, forever drawing.

For Eliza knew that friendship bloomed in the cracks, Where moss and ivy intertwined with ancient stone, And Gideon, once solitary, found solace in her laughter, Their secret shared—a little girl and a gargoyle, alone.

So if you wander the cobbled streets at twilight, Look up, and perhaps you’ll glimpse their silent dance, Eliza and Gideon, bound by magic and wonder, A friendship that defied time, and circumstance.