In the quiet hum of unspoken longing,
fingers trace the shadows of shape,
where the phantom limb breathes a whisper,
a caress of memories on worn wood.
Gaze into the swirling eddies
of color lost to time's embrace,
where the heart beats on
in a spectral dance of ghostly grace.
The codes of a bygone touch
inked in twilight's velvet haze,
a symphony strummed on
invisible strings, lingering in the air.
Whispered thoughts escape,
scattering like autumn leaves,
carrying the weight
of a thousand unseen hands.