The Forgotten Path

She walks alone along the cobblestone paths of a time before the shadows claimed dominion over her memories. The ancients stir around her, their voices weaving through the night's embrace like fingers lingering over fading ink.

"On the dais of eternal dawn, our hearts entwined, as fragrant roses inhaled the whispers of the stars."

An echo, still reverberating through ages that left her hushed, discloses truths sweet and mournful: their names carved upon ancient trees now only a whisper of bark and moss. Once, this ground was alive with laughter, with sighs that melted like honey upon spring's lips.

He recalls standing under the vast expanse of twilight where velvet drapes of the evening golden-edged scattered across epochs. Each breeze carries fragmented verses; a love letter forgotten to the pages of time, each breath a line once dedicated by candlelight.

The path is older than any soul that wanders its twisting embrace, curling into secrets held dear by moonlit serenades. She pauses beside the gnarled oak, on whose bark the lovers once carved their dreams.

"And what once was, will be again, traced among the brume-kissed canopy with shadows of what might have been."

Silence answers, and yet sounds so profound, the heart of gentleness reverberating past borders where reality and longing embrace.