In the labyrinth of the unspoken,
a lullaby of forgotten truths dances
between the grains of time.
Hear, they say, the whispers of nostalgia,
for they are woven from silence's fabric,
threads of golden haze dissolving
under the twilight veil.
Once, where the shadows linger,
a carousel spun gently, rusting
in the embrace of ivy's grip.
The ticket, an unwritten poem,
lies buried deep in the heart's keeper.
Would you dare reclaim it, softly,
through the murmurs of the daydreams?