The droning hum of the neon signs rattled like whispers
in abandoned streets, echoing the residue of long-forgotten
melodies sung by nowhere-bound radios.

Unfold the ancient parchment, marked not with letters
but quiet sighs of lavender on warm sands,
cascading emotions, mutable like the waves
rolling over dreams yet conceived.

A door crystallizes, frozen amidst parked illusions:
click once, the stairs stretch infinitely,
where roses clip their petals into laughter
and bicycles row gently upon seas of moonlight.

This is where time gnaws at the gilded cocoons
of our unshed veils, stories penned in charcoal
then washed with rain of velvet droplets at dusk.

Taste the ripened corner of destiny,
where shadows lengthen, fusing with glow
unveiling the silhouette of a stranger
captured by the daguerreotype of life’s crossroad.

Here patience ripples into cascading leaves,
twirling away into pools of transparent reflection
where inside the edge, the broken lullabies await.