Beneath the oak tree, where once you climbed with reckless joy, the earth held your laughter quiet, whispering secrets to the wind. Do you remember the playful shadows drifting through rippling grass?
Reflections of selves lost to calendar pages, ever turning yet static in memory. The soft scent of summer lilacs comforting you in solace, yet leaving you to question why moments so sweet drift like feathered hair.
Mortar and brick remain while you lift your gaze upward, businesses thrive yet the stories remain untold. Hellos echo in unfamiliar doors; why can't we find comfort in the places we once roamed freely?
Perhaps the urban landscape hides remnants of yesterday; sidewalks once alive with friendships now forgotten, each footprint imbued with a resonance that still beckons: pull back the curtain revealing faces as paper calls.
The clock ticks however slowly; heed it. Capture your echoes, if you dare wanderings beyond walls.