Whispers of Celeste

In the year of shadows, 1928,
When the skies wept beneath Dutch reign,
There stood a girl named Celeste,
Bound by fate, wrapped in pain.
Her dress was white, but not her soul,
In the gardens, she used to stroll,
Until the winds of war grew near,
And whispered death upon her ear.
Beneath the palm trees, twisted and high,
Her laughter echoed, then said goodbye,

For the hands of time ceased to turn,
And in...