Bronze keyholes blink like distant stars
and shadows trickle through velvet curtains into dreams
obscured by mist—a symphony performed
on silent grand pianos in echoing halls.
Where do watchmen turn their gazes when stars depart?
Beneath the void, we find ancient whispers overrun
by autumn leaves, their whispers mixing with
the melody of drifting moonless tides.
Seek the glow of lanterns suspended on threadbare dreams
as whispers coast along the horizon at dawn
and airfare companies declare monopoly on
specters and breaths between sunkissed twilight waves.