In the land where sidewalks sleep,
beneath the moon's gentle whisper,
there grows a garden of silent dreams.
The flowers here are painted with shades of quiet,
the breeze hums lullabies made of soft shadows.
Feet on concrete, hearts in clouds,
laughter drips like honey from the sky.
Here, the stars weave stories that the sun forgets,
a tapestry woven from the fabric of whispers.