A lantern sways somewhere unseen,
its glow brushing the gravel.
An accordion exhales—
not a melody,
but the sound of air remembering wood.
Steps scatter in the dark,
a dog pauses mid-road,
ears tilted toward the faintest whistle.
Trumpet, muted,
threads a single line
across the night’s canvas,
a line that bends but does not close.
Coins rattle once,
then stillness—
and in that stillness,
the music lingers longer
than the road itself.
.