In the quiet whispers of the past,
Lies a tapestry woven with care,
Threads of laughter and shadows cast,
In the tender arms of memory’s lair.

Each moment a brushstroke on life’s canvas,
Colors vibrant, some soft and faded,
A gallery of days that gently pass,
In the heart, forever cradled.

The scent of rain on a summer’s eve,
Or the warmth of a long-lost embrace,
In silent corners, these we retrieve,
Traces of love time cannot erase.

With every sunrise, a chance to recall,
The melodies of stories once told,
In the echoes of time, we find our all,
In memories, forever, we hold.