In the quiet corners where shadows dwell,
Lies the echo of steps once bold,
Paths grown wild, stories untold,
In whispers, the forsaken tell.

The leaves murmur secrets to the night,
Of dreams left behind, scattered and torn,
In the cold embrace of a silent morn,
Lost in time’s relentless flight.

Underneath the weeping sky,
Rivers of memories slowly drift,
Carrying whispers that gently lift,
Into the void where echoes die.

Yet among the ruins, hope persists,
In the cracks of walls long crumbled,
A seed of light remains untroubled,
Awaiting a gentle, healing mist.