Purple Dreams In Other Realms

She hummed a tune of moonlit grace, soft as whispers through the trees, each note a thread of ancient tales woven on the breeze. Her eyes held storms and lullabies, stars tangled in her hair, she beckoned me with crooked grin— a dare hung in the air. “Tell me,” she said, “a tale of hearts, of wishes never told, a secret born from silent dreams, or memories gone cold.” So there beneath the silver leaves, I let my story flow— of love once lost, of hope still bright, of things I longed to know. She listened close and with a smile, she whispered back to me: “Every story told in truth unlocks a hidden key.” Then with a wink and flurry flight, she vanished in the dew— and left behind a shimmered word: believe, and it finds you.