Whispers on the Breeze

Numbers swirling beneath broad surfaces, A clock strikes twice yet no wakened faces remain.

"Today is merely a remnant, yesterday ran through our fingers, time frays at its edges."

"She adored silence, muted fields of forgotten stories, graying leaves, fragile binding threads."

Distant laughter, or perhaps a trickle of water always beckons the lost towards twilight.

"It was there, hovering— shadows intermingle, echoing feet where fading thoughts rest."

A broken line divides what we know and whisper, "remember the comfort golden afternoons could bring?"