Somewhere, beyond the echoes of yesterday's sighs,
lies a path partially forgotten, overgrown
with whispers of winds—

The water ripples beneath a cerulean sky
reflecting dreams that danced and
then vanished like smoke—

In the quiet recesses of the night,
voices linger, uninvited, soft, echoing in
the chambers of a hollow heart—

Would they speak if you sat still
long enough to catch the autumn chill,
to weave the touch of—

Inhale the silence
Dare the reflection