Voices, secretive and soft, linger
on the cusp of a fading echo,
threading through the willows' wane.
On the edge of oblivion,
rhythms dance, a silent rondeaux,
weaving tales of ancient starlight.
The moon, a reluctant witness,
bathes the world in silver sighs,
while shadows embrace the forgotten.
Such is the world of whispered dreams,
where every step is a hymn of silence,
and every heartbeat, a secret revealed.