Once whispered between the lips of autumn winds, a mirth that tickles the cosmos, only to scatter like grains of daylight upon a misty dawn. Such is the laughter that finds its home in the heart's deepest alcove, ephemeral yet eternal in memory's embrace.
Consider, if you will, the elegant waltz of the clouds above, where soft echoes of joy ripple across the vast cerulean sea — a performance destined to fade yet wildly triumphant. There, beneath the watchful gaze of an argent moon, laughter dances like a forgotten song etched upon the very fabric of the heavens.
Does not the whispering night long for company, for the playful jests of stars that flicker like an old friend’s grin? And yet, as we reach out to capture the fleeting sound, it slips through our fingers, an inconsolable phantom of merriment.
A Moment's Mirage Twilight Reverie