"The tide sings only for those who dare listen," she murmured,
as shadows twisted playfully around the flickering lantern.
"Their voices tremble, timeless, in the arms of night."
"Do you recall the roads that weave like forgotten threads?"
he replied, tracing constellations with phantom fingertips.
"Our shadows linger where dreams plant their seeds."
"I believe in the whispers of ancient echoes," she answered,
"the ones that hum beneath the weep of stars.
They carry stories too grand to forget."
The moon, a silent witness, cast a glow,
revealing paths only the brave would tread.
Footsteps echoed, not of this world, but of another breath.
Shadows watch quietly...