In the fading light, a whisper travels
from pages unturned,
the echo of a forgotten vow.
Once, there was a garden, grand
with the laughter of leaves
brushing against promises not made.
A clock ticks
in the distance
where time itself hesitates.
(Perhaps it knows)
Visit Memory or
wander through Echo.
An old typewriter remains
keys frozen in rust,
awaiting the touch of gentle hands.
Shadows remember the shapes
of fleeting encounters
tucked beneath the veil of mist.
-- Anachronistic inscriptions on fragile parchment
delicately unraveling the past.