The hushed whispers of moments not lived,
linger like ancient foliage on the river's edge.
Between the spaces where daylight softens,
the mundane lives unravel in their celestial dance.
Each thread, a pastel memory of being, chooses to float.
Do you recall that winter, when frostbitten trees
whispered secrets to the moonlit skies?
Through the haze of old ink and parchment,
time mends its cracked edges with quiet grace.
The unread letters rest beneath sleep’s tender gaze,
a testament to life’s intricate, invisible web.