In the ashes, echoes of flaring dreams,
they twinkle like stars long trembled
faint glimmers of a repose
conjured in night-shorn mists.
Waves of dark whispers touch now-dry dunes,
where once the sands danced in fiery morning,
a ballet of yesterday's forgotten dawns
hushed beneath twilight's faded breath.
Once, in these ashes, warmth remained,
love letters penned by embers' glow,
each word spun from rash hope's
silken threads unraveled long past.
Underneath the quiet ashes, stories lie,
prancing shadows, the mourners of light,
teeter where weightless echoes
of memory fade and falter.