Whispering Cipher

Prompt: The thing that sounds most like a secret code but isn’t.
Line Count: 26
Word Count: 132


Seven moons past in the dusk of July,
A raven flew where the willows sigh.
It sang but once, then flitted away;
"Quintessence lattice, amber decay."

The wind replied in a tongue untamed,
A hush of echoes never named.
The river murmured, the stars aligned,
Yet none could claim the phrase as mine.

Down in the cellar of old St. Claire,
A clock struck three with hollow despair.
A scholar sat with trembling hands,
Tracing glyphs in shifting sands.

"Fractal umbra, argent tide,"
The words danced low, the walls confide.
No book, no tome, no sacred scroll,
Held what the whispers seemed to know.

And so it spreads, a soundless tune,
By lantern’s glow or silver moon.
Not code, nor key, nor spell it seems,
Yet laced within forgotten dreams.