Once, in the gentle sigh of autumn winds,
I found solace among the whispering trees.
Their branches caressing secrets of old,
tales wrapped in twilight's soft embrace.
"It's laughter," she said, gazing toward the mist.
"But not as we know it. Layered deep between moments,
a symphony of shadows giggling at fate."
Do we not laugh to hide our truths?
Camouflaging merriment behind forlorn smiles,
seeking the twilight lane that leads home.
Where echoes of forgotten joys stir the dust.
Dance with the spectres
Listen to the porcelain tales
Unveil the azure dusk