An orange bubble touches the sky,
"Do you see me, lurking above the trees?"
Down the lane of forgotten toys,
The old dolls whisper to each other, tales of adventures,
Of pirate ships and candy mountains, lost in the mist of time.
We find keys to imaginary worlds, unlocking doors that never were,
Paintings with eyes that have seen too much,
Reflections like puddles of dreams spilled on the ground.
"Can you hear us?" they ask,
As the wind carries echoes of their songs, far and wide.
Return to the mirrors, where reality bends
And childhood stories weave themselves back into the fabric of the now.
In the attic of shadows and sunlight,
We find ourselves and lose again.