Dressed in silver veils, the midnight whispers call,
tracing silhouettes on bewildered walls.
An echo of laughter, a forgotten monologue,
where deja vu sings softly, a tender refrain.
Beneath the weeping willow’s gentle shade,
lies a world unseen, yet known by heart.
The winds carry tales of weary wanderers,
who seek solace in realms made of stars.
Time bends like light through dewdrop prisms,
distorting reality in the most beautiful ways.
Touch the fringes of what was once gold,
and feel the whisper of what will never be.