Within the embrace of an umbral kaleidoscope, whispers of an archaic romance linger. Do you recall the scent of violets carried by the evening zephyr? It dances along cobblestones, echoing the vibrant laughter of sunbeams juxtaposed against an unseen tempest.
Dearest heart, in this diffused spectrum of existence, those ethereal spheres remain untouched— spheres where poets' quills still sing in the enigma of timeless moonlight. Alas, your silhouette, etched upon the horizon, haunts these hollow musings with ardor unmatched.