In the quiet corridors where thoughts linger,
between the dusk and dawn of our dreams,
lies a tapestry woven of whispers,
threads lost to the winds of time.
Voices hum in the corners of recollection,
subtle and soft like a fading echo,
tracing paths where footsteps once danced,
on floors of history, now dusted and dim.
Their thoughts, like shadows, stretch and pull,
seeking the light of understanding anew;
in the silent echoes, they find their home,
nestled in the nostalgia of forgotten tomorrows.