In the quiet corners of forgotten streets,Echoes of laughter and whispered dreams,Old stones bear witness to fleeting feats,As time unwinds its endless seams.The faded photographs in dusty frames,Hold stories etched in sepia tones,Lives once vibrant, now just names,In the heart’s archive, their presence owns.Beneath the moon’s soft, silvery glow,Memories dance in the gentle breeze,Carrying tales of long ago,In every rustling of the trees.The old life lingers in the soul’s embrace,Weaving threads of joy and sorrow,In the tapestry of time’s gentle grace,A bridge from yesterday to tomorrow.