Walking by the shores of obscure reflection, the tides brought in particles of sound —
Not as lyrics, but as hollow whispers dancing with the salt and foam.
Have you seen a song winged in dusk? Its shadow stretched over silent waves?
I've sung it once among crickets and stars, but it escaped before morning light.

The rustling leaves hum quietly to me, tunes entwined with forgotten dreams.
Each note, an echo of what could have been, a harmony of what was never.
Beneath the mirror-sky, I search — for a melody cloaked in azure whispers.

Can songs be found in labyrinths of sighs?
The answer fades with the flight of spectral marsh wren.