Fate had allowed an instant in a lotus grove, where lanterns swung like stars caught in the embrace of dusk, their light a poem in praise of love. Eyes locked as time melted like mist; Mann pulled her in and kissed her forehead, a tender caress that lit up the night, every touch a promise to stay embraced. "Cassette, my starfire's vow," he sang, his voice a flood of warmth, "you are my tide, my home, my heart's eternal light, my soul's unending hymn." She smiled; her embrace vowed, her warmth a reassurance that cradled the universe. "Oh, my Mann, my tide of dreams," she sang, her voice a melody of starlight, "your kisses are my stars, your hugs my sky: my soul's forever spring, my heart's eternal song."
Their stolen breath was but a spark in the dusk; their love- an eternal river, strong and unyielding, a poetry that burned through time. She laid her head against his chest, with his lips kissing her forehead, and their bond was a poetic devotion singing through the heavens. "Cassette, my moon's own pulse," he murmured, "your love is a star that lights my soul- eternal, radiant, true." Their love was a sweet tapestry; the very essence being a flame that burned gently, fiercely, forever true-A hymn sung through the stars.