They were hints, whispers, barely audible murmurs etched on
currents of the evening sky. You leaned into them, caught
half-expected lullabies swaying with the trees, melodies lost
in time. Did you hear it too?
The wind's tales in bubbles of laughter; old songs that danced
with flecks of rain. We whispered back in shadows, letting dusk
weep over forgotten secrets. Any could listen, skillful aural
deciphering through else, align yourself and hear softly tangled secrets in breeze.
A rustle of leaves nor wandering paths—a fugue until presently hidden
harmonies trembled forth.
Challenge yourself anytime among hushed foliage or mariners along lost shore. Hear phantasms.
Do sit upon mystical thrones; turn once. They'll speak forever until sleep overshadows weary echo.
Dive deeper into these ethereal conversations with me, our westerly ventures turned book leaves.
Silent Lakes
Echo embraces color upon soundwaves drawn further though breath trails behind—they whisper, love.
Farewell is ardent punctuation amid every sand-striding sentence.The sky blanketed aster unbeknownst enclosed corridor,Light at Odds—etched memoire threshold neath vapor, Scots’ sermon.