Silk-spun whispers
slid beneath the door,
urging muted echoes
from the kitchen sink.
Step softly, pieced together
in clockwork shimmers,
for the network hums
beneath porcelain smiles.
Through digital willow weaves,
tapping unseen frequencies,
they dance in networks foul—
tangled in the grain of dusk.
Imaginary paths unfurl
like distant fires,
their warmth a spectral glow
in this empty room.