The moon whispers through carnival winds,
murmurs of forgotten laughter echo.
A clown sits beneath the silver glow,
his painted smile, a crescent in the night.
Listen, they say, the stars hum a tune
that tricks the shadows into sleep.
But beware the melody, sweet and grave,
for it dances with darkness on the edge of dreams.
Across the tightrope, a songbird
balances truth upon its fragile wings.
Will you join its flight, they ask?
Wander, wander, far away,
through the misty lanes of yesterday.
Behind the mask, behind the veil,
lives a fairy tale with a ghostly trail.