Dream Petals

Whispers of twilight cling to the edges of forgotten roads. The pavements pulse like veins beneath the skin of the earth.

In the dry husk of the old oak, whispers converge, woven into the fabric of the night, shared among the stars.

Beyond the veil where light never penetrates, petals of dreams flutter, seeking the solace of morning.

A melody that only shadows can hear, played by hands unseen, in a dance that knows no time.