They rose like silhouettes in the mist
casting shadows upon the dreams of the weary
the wind's breath too gentle, too soft
to whisper their names ere they fade.
Listen, there's a song that lingers beneath the rust
a lullaby of forgotten lore
that hums through the cracks
in the pavements of our yesterdays
and asks not to be remembered,
yet feels the weight of all that’s untold.
Curious souls trace patterns in the sands of time
believing in the myths of permanence
as fragile hands clutch at wisps of air,
building dreams that dissolve
like mist upon the morning.