The chains shimmering dimly in the half-light of the attic, keeping songs old and whispering. They hum a tune no one dares to forget, lest it find unkindleable light in a comforted heart.
You remember the verses spelled in soft murmurs, never quite catching the sound but always knowing the words, always knowing there would be a lull written across skies painted in dusk hues.
There’s talk of miracles in these lyrics, tangled as they are in rusting chains of iron and affection. They hang in the air like a sigh you almost caught, forgotten chains of long-forgotten songs.