Her eyes, two distant stars, blink in time
To the sighs of the midnight breeze,
While his shadow stretches, longing
For a touch that slips through spectral grasp.
In the boundless corridors of dreams,
They meet beneath the ancient willow,
Whose leaves weave the fabric of their fate,
Unseen yet woven, a tapestry of souls.
Is it love, or mere echo
Of hearts tangled in the threads
Of what was, and what might never be?
Yet still, their hands reach, grasping
The laces of a destiny entwined.