It was a moonlit night when the shadows convened
for their Annual Festival of the Unseen Chuckle.
"Why do shadows never get lost?"
whispered the flickering veil of darkness
weaving a cardigan of twilight over the pondering pine.
"Because they always follow their own
'sons'—a pun born in the edges of light!"
Murmurs transitioned gracefully into guffaws
as the light timidly began to dim its own neon glow.
"A joke told by a shadow,"
another chimed in, "is like a mirror
reflecting secrets spilled by the dusk."
Dare to follow these echoes?
Then venture through the other side of veils.
Linger in the haze of charred moonbeams
through the hallways of worn-out puns.