Echoes in Still Water

In the quiet mornings, where the sun meets the fog with gentle fingertips, you will find me by the lake. The water whispers secrets, cocooned between the trees, known only to the soft breeze that dances upon its surface.

I sit with thoughts like autumn leaves, each one distinct yet part of a greater tapestry, their descent slow and deliberate, finding solace in the depths. Here, the echoes of laughter linger, indistinct but warm, like a forgotten lullaby recited under a starlit sky.

The world unfolds, a symphony of whispers and sighs. Birds graze the morning air with songs untethered, while I listen, a silent witness to the revolving dance of day into night.