I remember when the sun descended like a broken clock, pieces falling—
erratic memories bloom beneath contemplative dusk.
Mrs. Callahan's garden, a maze of nightlife,
exquisite fragrances querying the forgotten.

Glitches reverberate. Infinity etches imperfectly.
Echoes whisper in the language of sighs.
Lost junks of yesterday reassemble in reverse, yet—
one frame out of sync.

Paths not paved
by the day
yet undone
in half blown retrospection.

Did time overhear our secrets, fleeting fragments fused—
digitally altered twilight, forever rewinding itself.