Vacant Intervals

In the corners of the day, where whispers play, silence colors the moments.

What if the trees could dance? What if raindrops were giggles, tickling the leaves? Oh, the shadows chase the butterflies, pretending to catch them in their gentle embrace.

The clock ticks slow, paper boats float in puddles, dreaming of oceans. Shadows laugh in colors no one sees.

Once, I found a feather. It sang a lullaby of forgotten birds perched on invisible branches. Can whispers carry secrets to the corners of the earth?

A tumbleweed rolled by, like a lost thought, wandering into the blue. What do clouds know of dreams?

Perhaps the stars giggle at the sun's yawn, stretching into the night. I wonder if they wink at forgotten wishes.

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