You wander through the corridors of thought,
where vestiges of nightspin illuminated stories,
reflections caught in twilight's asymmetry.
Dreams, stitched like silken leaves,
forgotten until the dawn dismantles secrecy.
Are you a wanderer in echo's embrace,
seeking ancient whispers standing still
among ribs of paper, serves as wings?
Shadows divulge dance steps in inadvertently
nattered queries buried beneath river's favour.
Listen, tranquil surfaces ripple faintly;
once a sun-kissed strand now masks wonder
with indigo's soft shroud.
Memory, the librarian of dismay,
recalls unwhispered joy forgotten in twilight's dream-walk.