Beneath the clockwork stars,
the whispering winds entwine,
breathing life into paths lost,
where shadows and dreams align.
A clock's soft-hearted tick,
orchestrates a dance with fate;
the moon hums a gentle tune,
a serenade for wanderers late.
Hands of brass and silver song,
arrhythmia in lovers' embrace.
Through forgotten threads they weave,
a tapestry of warm solace.
Do you see the path untraveled?
Where passion's compass points awry,
hollow echoes of time's refrain,
the wind whispers a soft goodbye.