On the shelf, a blue elephant.
Sun-soaked
Mistlessness

Wandering echoes.
The room spins a gentle tale.

Time paints shadows, typing laughter on
paths overgrown like ages of
history
Pockets full of wind dust,
eyes closed against
the familiar march.

Stripped roads
Return paths with
the lingering scent
of unanswered wishes
on benches over looked
by eternal sunsets
passing like
strangers near the shore. Stay longer, hear the whispers.