In the long stretch of the dusky corridor,
where whispers of the past gather dust,
a single light flickers—gnawing at silence,
a sweet trick of the twilight.
Skipping shadows chase gleams along walls,
laughing echoes of a world forgotten,
where doors creak stories to dreamers,
who listen, close, close, yet distant.
The ceiling hums an old lullaby,
spun from stardust and silver threads,
weaving through the heart of corridors,
cast in a glow that whispers of memory.
Once, they danced here,
tiny feet trailing whispers,
a waltz of wonder,
shadows embracing glimmers.
And here, the glimmer holds,
a promise in its pulse—
echoing the light,
echoing the night.
Will you dance with the shadows?