Shadows weave stories through the sunbeam's edge,
traces of laughter, like echoes of forgotten waves.
Did you see the moth dance in the twilight glow?
In the attic, secrets settle like dust,
murmurs of yesterday's dreams lingering in silence.
Do you remember the clock, its hands frozen in amber?
A door half ajar, a world unseen behind it.
The fragrance of rain on rusted metal,
whispering tales of twilight's embrace.
Somewhere, the wind sings a haunting lullaby,
woven from the threads of fading light.
Step through, and perhaps you will hear it too.