Reflections in the Ephemeral Mirror

The echoes call softly on waves unseen, whispers of the past in sun-soaked rooms
where dust motes dance in the shallow light. "Remember," they sigh, but memory frays, threads of time unravel, weaving into stories untold. The old chair creaks, a loyal witness to the silent nods of acceptance, the farewell to nothingness.
Step back into the labyrinth Fragments of Moonlight