When the petals dance under a kaleidoscope rain, shadows flicker like whispers on starlit waves. In a field of forget-me-nots where the grass mirrors the soul's forgotten glances, reality skews as if seen through a warded glass.
The rose smells of memories, clandestine beneath the thorns. Each bend in its petal tells a secret of the wind's desired flight. Friends say goodbye, their faces blurring into the skyline, just like miles of savanna wheat, shimmering in solemn unison.
Here, the echoes of laughter linger where one finds echoes of truth, deceit – the subtle pivot of a dancer in a dim-lit room where flowers and words entwine in a waltz of swirling harmonics.
Explore Further | Lost in Hues