Once upon a whispered dusk, where shadows cradle light,
The soft hum of bygone tales linger in the golden air.
Beneath the quilt of twinkling skies, quiet souls wander,
Seeking the spectral glow of laughter steeped in mist.

Echos of laughter between flickering trees,
A song half-remembered, haunting the edges of memory.
Gentle lullabies weaving through the silver fog,
A nostalgic wisp exhaling gentle sighs.

Red lanterns flicker across the horizon,
Their dance in silence higher than the voice of time,
Mending woes unfurling amid the sighs,
Echo, dear echo, made from rapture and tears.

Walk through the haze to the shore of dreams:
The cradle shall wait adorned with fog nonpareil,
Each ripple a note inked in silent reverie,
And we, the songbirds of someday gone wild.

Will you graze the air to find these whispers,
Or let the songs rise like timid fires igniting,
To blaze in your shadows, painting night diaphanous?
Dive deeper or stay mere waves.