In the quiet dawn, the hours slip by,
A whisper on the breeze, a fleeting sigh.
Moments gather, then disperse unseen,
Like shadows cast on fields of evergreen.

The sun ascends, its golden arc so grand,
Marking spaces etched by time’s own hand.
Each tick and tock a silent, steady beat,
A dance of seconds in a rhythmic fleet.

Twilight falls, the daylight starts to wane,
Echoes of the day, in twilight’s vein.
Stars emerge, the night begins to weave,
Stories of the past that we must leave.

In dreams we drift, through currents deep,
Where memories of time in silence sleep.
Yet with each dawn, anew we rise,
To greet the time beneath the skies.