The Hidden Hollows

The whispering shadows, gentle exhalations of the forgotten past. Here in the hollows, a tapestry of silence.

Dreams intertwine with daylight, caught in the folds of reality's unheard symphony. Once vibrant, now echoes.

A single teardrop falls, rippling through the fabric of time, stitching together what was lost and what may never be.

Every corner holds the memory of a laugh, a sigh, cemented in the air like fragrance long since vanished.

Listen closely; the trees speak in ancient tongues, bearing witness to truths too heavy for words.