The third sneeze lingered in twilight winds,
like promises of yesterday:
Stars inked with remembrance of silent desires,
sketches lost with dawn's fade.

Where do your footsteps echo now,
When roads converge in solitude?
Upon the corridors of unwritten history,
footprints lead to nowhere recognizable.

Can we still catch the scent of violets fragmented?
The answer is hidden - there
beyond the veil of tangible shadows,
under the amber moon subtle.