In the stillness, a whisper wanders,
tracing fingers along the glassy edge,
an echo of dreams once woven,
now unraveling silently in fragments.
I look, but see not the flesh,
only shadows casting long over
a past wrapped in veils of mist,
reflections that speak, yet do not breath.
In the mirror, where the absent gaze
lingers longer than the light's embrace,
spectral visions dance in circles,
reaching, only to meet themselves in hollow.