Reflections of a Century

Silhouettes Under Shattered Moonlight

In sepia-tinged whispers, the clockhands pause,
their stories echo in the creases of old velvet dresses.
Beneath the chandelier’s stubborn light,
the room sighs a forgotten aria.

Beneath stretching canopies of ash and charcoal,
Zelda clasping secretive glances with her reflections.
Time's waltz tiptoes on dreams woven from whispered shadows,
And ghosts unfurl across the ballroom's tired floor.

Ghostly silhouettes of the past,]
which captured ethereal reveries in half-lit frames,
Similar to art liberated from its canvas confines,
wiggling like hands of a tarnished watch.

Whispers Along the Forgotten Path

Solemn ink and paper tales share their aging sighs—
they speak of unmatched longing and amorous years
when candlelit beams beckoned knowledge withheld
like the heartbeat of an unimagined morrow.

Projected heartbeats behind thin, shaky walls,
zarian connections to lives unfulfilled,
consumed in a theater of oil and ruminating stars,
sacred truths hidden deep within ordinary weave.