once upon a time ; a poem lowercase intended once upon a time, before the earth grew tired of waiting, there was a village where the sky was always soft, as if it remembered how to hold you. the river ran clear then, singing a song that only children heard— a tune of laughter that melted into the wind, carrying the scent of honey and rain. and there, in the fields, the flowers had names you’d whisper like secrets, names that felt like promises you could still trust. but the world, like the seasons, shifted, and one by one, the names faded into the quiet hum of things forgotten. once, the doors were always open, and people would stop by just to hear the echo of a story, to pass the time until the stars came out and made the night feel soft again. now, those stories gather dust. the doors are locked, the chairs empty. the river still runs, but its song is different— fainter, like a tune remembered only by the heart. once upon a time, the village was full of tomorrow, but tomorrow is a place we never quite reached. and so, we are left with memories— small, fragile things that slip through our fingers, like the last light of day before it disappears into the dark. once upon a time, we were part of something, and that something, we thought, would last forever. but the world keeps turning, and we are left here, holding the pieces of a dream we can’t quite finish.
