Somewhere in the silent corridors of dreams,
the echoes of words unspoken ripple softly,
fading into the fabric of twilight embers.

Forgotten are the choices that linger,
ghostly specters of yesterday's dawn,
etched upon the tapestry of space.

Here, in the quiet shadows, we ponder,
the whispers of time, delicate and fleet,
weaving through the fibers of memory.