In the twilight of our yesterdays,
Memories softly whisper, they never fade.
Echoes of laughter, shadows of sorrow,
Painting the canvas of a time we borrowed.

The old oak tree still stands so tall,
Witness to dreams both great and small.
Its leaves have turned, but roots run deep,
Holding stories in its silent keep.

Through the corridors of the past we roam,
Searching for fragments, seeking home.
Faces and places, etched in time,
A symphony of life, in perfect rhyme.

Though the years may pass and seasons change,
The heart remembers, love remains.
For in the quiet of the old life’s song,
We find the strength to carry on.