Somewhere, along the forgotten alleyways
the shadows pause who gaze
upon portals yet unseen by the common twilight. The feltilicious echoes
lull you forward, daring the clandestine to hum beneath your solemn gaze.
Here amidst the murmur, the leaves never lie—yet they speak, they speak. Whenever you ask them a question, the answer nestles between the leaves, waiting for a daring soul. Do you hear the echo of brass-ties bobbing above the aquiver trees?