In the realm of sunlit whispers,
the shadows speak in tongues,
weaving tales of timeless wanderers,
lost in the echo of the sun's embrace.
Between the ticks of celestial hands,
lies a secret folded under the light,
a mystery laid bare for those who listen
to the melody of dancing hours.
The sundail's whisper, a languid sigh,
traces the arc of a dreamer's gaze;
in spiraled moments, it captures dreams—
a hand of fate etched upon the dawn.