In the hollow echoes of abandoned streets, a child's laughter lingers like arching shadows.
A place, forgotten, where cherries blossomed and the sun colored our days yellow.
Is it too late to remember the taste of ice pops in the mid-afternoon sun, tongue stained with the flavor of pastel dreams?
When summer stretched eternally, nostalgia dripped from fleeting moments.
Turn the corner, past the gate of what was forgotten, and find shadows collecting stories underneath the sagging eaves of a distant memory.
Words spill out like shards of glass, each one reflecting light from lonely windows, mirrors to invisible lives swaying in whispers.
Shatter me, break into pieces, and let my echoes remain without borders; for who knows when the stories will dance again?
If you serenade the stars unleashed under a fallen sky, perhaps they might hum back forgotten melodies.