In the gloaming hour, whispers of the Wind's Lore drift through the intertwining branches. The tales of old, woven by the long-since departed gales, murmur softly in undulating promises. Have you ever listened closely, beneath the shroud of twilight?
Voices of lullabies never sung, echo across the embracing rainbow hills. Those who dream beneath these skies remember the luminous whispers, but awake to find only the petals of yesterday's sighs scattered like memories forgotten.
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