Lyric

Branches stitch a low and folding roof of dark

Streetlamps breathe a distant pulse into the leaves

Petals pause like memory hung for a while

Steps fall quiet where the night receives

Between trunks the sound becomes a spare thing

Space stretches and the city steps aside

Each falling white becomes a punctuation mark

We listen to the cracks the light provides

Widen the dark to hold the walking sound

Draw the path by the hush that marks its width

Pass through the space where shadow keeps the pace

A plucked reed echoes as a thread of cool relief

Petals catch the halo of a single lamplight

Feet learn a route defined by softer stops

Night gives the map and we keep sight

Between trunks the sound becomes a spare thing

Space stretches and the city steps aside

Each falling white becomes a punctuation mark

We listen to the cracks the light provides

Trace the gap where light and silence meet

Use the quiet to guide the measured step

Move along but do not rush the dark

Breath and branch and distance fold together

The ground replies in low and steady tone

Petals hang like small moons in the leaves

We walk through them and feel less alone