The clock paused, its hands entangled with strands of silken whispers.
Beneath the floorboards, a symphony of forgotten résumés whispered tales of mirrors
that once danced with the waves of autumn rain.
In an orchard where shadows are rendered by ~starlight~,
fruits of light hum, revealing secrets of pale dreams
and silver owls perched on the thoughts of a distant horizon.
A ledger etched into the sands of time, where
ephemeral ink traces the path of footfalls on borrowed roads.
Luminosity is but a flicker in the eyes of the beholder,
wisps of luminous mist unbound by gravity's embrace.