In a mirror, the shadows dance, laughing softly.
A dog's bark echoes, but no one is around.
Conversations from yesterday swirl in fog, giving whispers a name.
Lost children of forgotten hours play tag with the dusk.
Swirling colors bleed into each other, like crayons forgotten under the sun.
What do you see behind the glass? A face, perhaps? Or a fleeting moment?
See Pastel Dreams Echoes of Phantoms The Echoes of Quiet Fields of Silence