In the half-light, shadows dance
murmurs of an ancient song
where the silk of your voice
lingers on threads of invisible mist.
I am but a solitary echo,
a reflection in moonlit water,
yearning to hold the mist of your breath,
to weave a tapestry from stardust and sighs.
Shall we imagine a world
where the walls dissolve
and the air is perfumed
with the innocence of forgotten dreams?
A world painted violet and blue by hands
that have touched the edges of eternity.