What if time whispered secrets in reverse?
We'd walk backwards into yesterday's embrace,
unwrapping moments wrapped tight in memories.
Rain falls up, puddles vanish into cloud-bells,
laughter unraveling the fabric of joy tread softly.
Echoes call from days not yet dreamed,
where children ride shadows cast by nothing,
digging backwards into sandcastles forgotten
in oceans that reclaim what never was lost.
The toy left behind clicks open,
revealing worlds stitched not meant to be,
but they slip through cries of dolls with glass eyes.
They see us see them see us — in wistful paradox.
The moon knows its phases by heart
rotating through lunations, new to old —
reflecting echoes of days once undone Disassembling,
a puzzle solved not by looking forward, but within reverse.
Dare to run down gentle hills, casting your gaze towards the ascent?
The entrance peaks the arrival staircase backwards
revealing secrets tied tight with ribbons of shadowy light.