Pixels of past linger, soft like summer drizzle.
As shadows stretch across pixelated meadows,
The narratives _merge..._ into trinkets of light
tripping over themselves, lost
between the walls of cyberspace and memory.

If you listen closely, echoes composed of

Reflection speckled upon digital glass,
Thoughts compressed, echoes constrained
but never erased ... Only waiting
to resurface through whispers of electric storms.