On a night so quiet,
where dreams like clouds drift,
little voices hide, they slip between shadows,
murmuring stories of starry skies and hidden doors.
"Hello, do you see me?" one asks,
"In the dark, I'm just a wisp of light," another replies,
and they giggle, a sound like rain on leaves.
Gathering Light
Phantom feet patter on paths made of moonbeams,
footprints that vanish before the morning sun rises.
"Where are we going?" a voice echoes,
through the maze of forgotten dreams.
"To the place where colors hum and sing," they say,
and the winds carry their melody far and wide.
Dancing Dreams
Stars twinkle with knowing smiles,
watching the shadowy figures play and dance.
"Are we shadows too?" a tiny voice wonders,
its tone soft as a lullaby.
"No, we are whispers," answers the wind,
"echoes of stories that never end."
Phantom Paths