Across the bubbling porch, a concerto of dreams started to emerge, unforgotten and frozen amidst night's whispers. Raindrops composed staccato notes upon the pane, each whispering their clandestine worlds while leaves created percussion, a wacky assemblage.
Do you see the gateways opening? A mid-winter's eclipse serenades freedom. Perhaps the moon sings like a canary in a distant world, its verses muted only to those who dare listen. Floating possibilities disguised as forbidden thoughts...
The symphony that was yet to be written nestled within dust-coated sepulchers, longing for lost notes and syllables swallowed by fire. Is the velvet twilight a composer? Every nod sets melody to silent storms, dust, erasing time’s forgotten cadence.