Twilight Dreams

In the soft whisper of twilight
I catch glimpses of what could have been
Silhouettes dance on the edge of memory,
Cast by lights unseen and unfelt.

Do dreams remember themselves in the dusk?
They slip silently into the folds of night,
As I trace their forms in the chill of morning.

Here, in the shadows of a forgotten dawn,
Lies the echo of laughter, a whisper of sorrow.
And I find solace in their gentle presence,
The hearts that beat once, in rhythms of light.