In the melody played backward, the beginnings are concealed, those tender whispers who've long since forsaken innocence— a dance of shadows beneath a moon already sinking.
Each note resurrects a feeling lost; the echo of laughter against the distant roar of time. Anticipation reflows within the mind's eye, as though capturing the fleeting light of dusk before it surrenders to the embrace of night.
The heart yearns to rewind, to rediscover those rainbow hues clinging to droplets of forgotten rain. Understanding, perhaps, emerges not in moving forward but in reliving the soft sighs of day's inevitable retreat.
I sit in reverence, alone with a serenade of memories that distort and reflect; like water interrupted, altering course yet never truly altered.