April Fable

Fables float like forgotten cobwebs over the dewdrops, clinging to the morning light. April, once a distant memory, dances in the twilight of unnamed dreams.

A phantom limb, shadowed and intangible, whispers secrets of the heart. It reaches for the stars that have yet to fall, and in doing so, it shapes the contours of time.

In this dreamscape, the moon is a story untold, glowing silently in a sea of ink. The land of wishes lies beyond the horizon, where every whisper finds its voice.

Let the wind trace the outline of forgotten paths, leading to the mystic echo that calls your name, softly, like a lullaby.

Mistake not the silence for absence; it is a melody rarely heard, a frequency of the ancient dust that settles on dreams.

The hand of the unseen artist paints the scenery while the sun sleeps, sketching realities in shades of night's palette.