Reflection

The old chair creaks serenely,
bearing witness to unsaid words,
trapped in layers of dust.

The kitchen's worn toaster
knows the taste of burnt hopes,
toasted daily, no one cares.

Forgotten in the drawer,
a rusted pen dreams of letters,
never written, whispers untold.

Bind your secrets to these
lifeless souls, they whisper
back tales never meant to be.

Murmurs of the Shadows