Lunar Echoes

The clock chimed in reverse
as Tuesday danced through the porthole,
clutching a bouquet of iron keys
and whispered secrets of the sea.

In the garden of moonlit shadows,
a lone rabbit recited Shakespeare
to the gathering mist;
how it trembled, how it sang.

The radio crackled with silent songs,
lullabies woven from rusted ribbons.
Somewhere, an old friend’s laughter echoed
through the fog of decades gone and forgotten.