Oh weary chair, embers of wood's quiet tale... betrayed once by a broken weight.
Restless clock hid whispers of solitude,
unfaithful to seconds it measured,
reflecting lunar shadows in his face,
when all believed it ticked as song.
In the drawer's hollow – emptiness and forgotten paper stories, unfinished, unapologetic.
Shattered teacup, preserved in porcelain secrets,
revealed delicate fractures of silence,
soaks endless echoes of elusive conversations.
Curtains drawn over vanished sunbeams, holding captive the dance of particles ignored.
A forgotten scarf in winter's embrace,
longing wraps around the past,
dreams woven into every faded fiber,
revealing naked wanderings.
Folded sheets dragging hollow warmth, there lies the one's uninterested gaze.
And now cross the path;
Planet Murmurs
Unwrap the origins here
Old Scrawl