Do you remember the taste of rain on asphalt? The way the world seemed to breathe, a sigh escaping the lips of a weary sky. It was in those moments, suspended in the gentle fall, that time seemed less a tyrant and more a companion. Shadows danced on the edges, flickering like old film reels. We were children then, weaving stories from the threads of our dreams, unaware of the weight they would carry.
Once, I believed in the stars that adorned our ceilings, a map to places unseen. But the constellations faded, replaced by the hum of everyday life. Now, I know the truth lies hidden in shadows, whispers tangled in the webs of forgetfulness. Each passage of time an echo, a reminder of what was and what could never be again.
In dreams, I often find you there, a silhouette against the dawn. Your laughter carries, a melody that ties the present to the past. I reach out, but the distance stretches like a forgotten song, each note muted, lingering in the air only as a memory.
Echoes Dreams