"Have you ever tasted the stars?" she asked, mouth curved like a crescent moon.
Echoes of the forgotten songs spiraled through the open night—
In the dark garden, amidst the whispering winds, secrets glistened like morning dew.
The old man leaned closer, breath like autumn mist, "All paths lead to where the clouds sigh."
Shoes left unwalked stand in silent laughter, ticking clocks find peace in the stillness of dreams.