There once was a feeling pressed between sentences unfurling beneath the night, Ponies made of shadows dance with leaden feet, they tap into the unmeasured rhythm of a silent song, humming spectrums that cannot be seen.
A flicker and jolt break the trance of cloudy memory. Strung tight across the lunar glow, silvered whispers written in the seams, they collect dew under eyelids humming metaphors unknown.
Like a lighthouse adrift, dusk rocks in wave-lapped serenity while dreams echo the stories forgotten; forgotten tire swings stay silent, miming with reins long untethered.
Crickets perform orchestrations, interlacing lifelines with crisscrossed reminders between the wiry pines against the deep blush of twilight.