Driftwood Dreams

Beneath a cerulean sky, the driftwood murmurs tales of ancient mariners, their voices woven into the sinews of wood, sleeping on the shore. As the tides pull the bandages of sand across the forgotten footprints, the dreams of driftwoods speak in rhythms slow and deliberate.

The embers of a forgotten campfire flicker as stars ignite their cosmic lullaby, a whimsy of crickets accompany the murmurs. Etched in silken night, the song of the ancients dances among the twinkling glow, vines of luminescence embrace the silent whispers of time.

O fragrant wafts of thyme, encircling the wanderer's heart, whose journey across the fabric of dreams leaves glowing trails of stardust. The earth retains these pilgrim marks like tenderly held reflections upon mirrored waters.