In the stillness of hourglass whispers, time drapes itself in linens of forgotten lullabies. A cicada cries its elegy, wrapped in the embrace of stoic moonlight. Shadows paint the walls, singing a cacophony of unsung songs, interlaced with echoes of laughter turned ash.
Underneath the old, gnarled tree, there lies a patch of sky that has never seen daybreak. Here, the wind hums a dreary melody, knitting tales of wistful longing with the golden strands of dying sunbeams. Raindrops gently touch the parched earth, crafting ripples that dance out of sync with the heartbeat of the night.
A lone feather drifts, serenading the crisp air with a melancholic waltz, echoing the tales of an untold voyage. Between whispers of realms unseen, a forgotten bell tolls, ringing in a symphony of yesterday's dreams, forever out of reach, forever incomplete.