In the stillness of the morning light,
Time weaves its gentle thread,
Whispering secrets of endless night,
In dreams where memories are spread.

The clock ticks with a silent grace,
Each second a fleeting embrace,
As shadows dance upon the face
Of moments lost without a trace.

In the garden of forgotten days,
Where echoes of laughter softly play,
Time sits and watches in a haze,
The bloom and fade of yesterday.

Yet in the heart’s eternal space,
Time holds a sacred place,
A tapestry of love and grace,
In the endless journey we all chase.