In the silent symphonies of forgotten rooms,
where dust dances in the fading light,
echoes of laughter once resided,
now mere whispers in empty corridors.
"Have you seen them? The keys that turn the locks of yesteryears?"
Each key, a memory—each lock, a soul's door,
opened, then closed, leaving only shadows
of voices once full, now a soft refrain
of harmonic divergence in these hollow halls.
We search, we seek, through leather-bound tomes,
through corridors of mist and nebulous dreams,
grasping at the intangible, the ephemeral,
lost keys to melodies never played.