Through the veil of twilight whispers,
echoes of laughter graze the horizon.
What lies beneath the surface?
Twisted tales in kaleidoscopic frames.
Do you recall the taste of vermilion nights,
where every sip unraveled timid stars,
stitching golden thread through the fabric of dreams?
As wildflowers blow in warbling winds,
they beckon forth, promising an ever-elusive tomorrow
while dusk kneels like a penitent moth.