In the hush where shadows fold,
a song once wandered, shy yet bold.
Echoes of a tale untold,
ripple through the glass, now cold.

Whispers trace their fingers here,
brushing past the silent seer.
Did you catch a name, my dear,
or just the sigh of fleeting years?

Reflections weave a spectral dance,
a melody lost—was it mere chance?
The mirror holds its mystic stance,
gazing into the void's expanse.