In the silent corners,
whispering silk strands
hold onto fading whispers.
The attic breathes memories,
the scent of dust and dreams
intermingling beneath sunbeams.
Once, laughter
made these walls vibrate.
Now only echoes,
soft and sad.
In the silent corners,
whispering silk strands
hold onto fading whispers.
The attic breathes memories,
the scent of dust and dreams
intermingling beneath sunbeams.
Once, laughter
made these walls vibrate.
Now only echoes,
soft and sad.