Mistletoe
Mistletoe — the shy herald of winter romance, suspended like a soft secret in the hush of cold December air. It dangles from doorways and archways like a whispered dare, a spell cast in green and white, where lovers pause and the world gently fades around them.
Its leaves are tender invitations, its berries tiny moons cradled in dusk-kissed stems, each one glowing with the possibility of a kiss yet to happen. Beneath its quiet charm, hearts flutter, eyes linger, and time seems to slow — as if the moment itself is holding its breath.
To stand beneath the mistletoe is to surrender to magic. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a confession wrapped in snowlight, a soft ignition of something timeless. Love, under mistletoe, becomes both tradition and rebellion, bold and bashful all at once.
Medium: Watercolor on Paper
Size: 4.5 X 5
Mistletoe — the shy herald of winter romance, suspended like a soft secret in the hush of cold December air. It dangles from doorways and archways like a whispered dare, a spell cast in green and white, where lovers pause and the world gently fades around them.
Its leaves are tender invitations, its berries tiny moons cradled in dusk-kissed stems, each one glowing with the possibility of a kiss yet to happen. Beneath its quiet charm, hearts flutter, eyes linger, and time seems to slow — as if the moment itself is holding its breath.
To stand beneath the mistletoe is to surrender to magic. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a confession wrapped in snowlight, a soft ignition of something timeless. Love, under mistletoe, becomes both tradition and rebellion, bold and bashful all at once.
Medium: Watercolor on Paper
Size: 4.5 X 5
Mistletoe — the shy herald of winter romance, suspended like a soft secret in the hush of cold December air. It dangles from doorways and archways like a whispered dare, a spell cast in green and white, where lovers pause and the world gently fades around them.
Its leaves are tender invitations, its berries tiny moons cradled in dusk-kissed stems, each one glowing with the possibility of a kiss yet to happen. Beneath its quiet charm, hearts flutter, eyes linger, and time seems to slow — as if the moment itself is holding its breath.
To stand beneath the mistletoe is to surrender to magic. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a confession wrapped in snowlight, a soft ignition of something timeless. Love, under mistletoe, becomes both tradition and rebellion, bold and bashful all at once.
Medium: Watercolor on Paper
Size: 4.5 X 5