Echoes
In the attic’s haze,
I press a withered
leaf against pale glass—
a lullaby drifts
from a cracked music box,
uncertain and warm.
That first star
hangs low in autumn’s gold,
a distant pulse I once chased.
Snapshots: rustling acorns,
my mother’s soft hum,
childhood laughter echoing walls.
Across
At midday,
sunlight fractures through
the café’s plate-glass wall—
a leaf pirouettes
along the pavement’s
cracked seams,
circling without end.
A passerby whistles
that same old lullaby
into the city’s iron hum.
Snapshots: neon sign flicker,
tile-mosaic floor,
a pixel-bright star
blinking in my phone.
Time
One dawn to come,
I’ll cradle a seedling leaf
in a child’s small palm—
hum that same lullaby
until it settles like dew
in their dreams.
Above us,
a star remapped
in fresh constellations
glimmers with promise.
Snapshots: sapling rings,
bedtime lantern glow,
newborn laughter
scattering daylight.
.
Each panel unfolds beginning, middle, and end: past, present, future; as the leaf, lullaby, and star repeat like refrains in a three-fold collage.
