In the hushed folds of memory, where shadows weave the silent tales,
there lay an echo untouched by time's capricious hand.
Whispers of clandestine meetings, a tapestry of sighs woven thin,
linger as unspoken vows of forgotten lovers.
Follow the murmurs, they say,
into the twilight slumber of dreams half-remembered.
Gentle whispers dance like fading stars,
tracing the outlines of paths draped in echoes.
With every footfall, old stories breathe anew,
tales from a place left behind, breathing softly in the gloom.
Secrets cradled by time’s embrace, longing to be told,
tales of obscurities-
an abandoned station with worn, velvet seats,
echoing the laughter of those never destined to arrive.