I, the ivy-laced echo, descend into you — only to surface in your absence.
Rippling reflections of forgotten dreams whisper back from the tarnished glass.

In the hollows of fading twilight, the mirror begs whispers for forgotten songs. A melody untold, aiming to surface through ripples of reality:

Yet, amid this serenade, you find a place — woven through silence and departing echoes, surfacing anew through mirrored play.

Open Other Reflections Listen Deeper