An echo through time
—A child's laugh reverberates in an empty hall
The clock marks no hour,
each tick a reminder of forgotten pasts.
Collage of whispered dreams,
Misplaced memories like leaves scattered
Along the shores of a distant river.
Walk among the echoes
In the museum of pasts,
there lie relics of futures never lived.
Unseen shadows dance on walls that know too well,
the secrets of ages carved in their silent histories.
A tale untold emerges
from the crevices of time
as the sun bleeds into twilight.
Remember the whispers in late summer's breeze?
Has it always been this way?