In muted echoes of the familiar rainy street, there is a whisper you’ve forgotten to listen for. It pulses beneath every footstep, a singing heartbeat of the city.
The letter you never sent sits heavily upon the coffee table. Its ink shimmers with promises unspoken, calling. Whispers of the infinite weave tightly around your noon reflections.
Your cell phone vibrates quietly, but the room isn't filled with urgency. Just the hum of possibility, ripe in the craft of signals reaching beyond reach. Should your reply be understood? Perhaps, perhaps not.
They see it in their dreams, the tapestry you talked about weaving together. Tonight it rests unspun, yet tomorrow perhaps it will shimmer in hazy shades of memory.
Call lightly upon your soul's undulating echoes. Ring the resonance to the neon dreams that electrify surefooted mornings.