Once upon a wind's wander, where skies gently seethe.
"Is this reality or merely a chime in the night?"
She asked, eyes glazed with dew, as the curtains danced as echoes.
Ribbons braiding themselves in the air, muted voices congregate.
"All will turn," he whispered, peeling tale from twilight.
His words were diary pages, fluttering in a breeze we couldn't summon.
Fragments forged in time's oblivion, nestled in resonant stillness.
Beyond the rattle of stars, a sigh traverses the ziggurat of forgotten dreams.