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.
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