The Dance of Forgotten Dreams

like shadows in a slow-turning waltz, they drift— soft, unsummoned sighs from corners of the mind where dust forgets to settle, and yesterday pirouettes silently. dreams once bright now fade, tulle trailing in twilight, ankles kissed by cobwebs of sleep. Each step unwinds the golden thread of almost-memory, echoing rhythms never quite born, never quite gone. They circle, spiral, shimmer, vanish— the dance of forgotten dreams.