In the hush of quiet rooms, where echoes softly play,
Time stretches long and endless, like the fading light of day.
The walls become companions, in this world so tightly spun,
Yet within its silent grasp, a sense of peace is won.

Through windows gazing outward, at skies of muted gray,
The world seems vast and distant, as the moments drift away.
Isolation’s tender grasp, a gentle, knowing friend,
In the solitude of self, broken pieces mend.

Beneath the weight of stillness, thoughts begin to weave,
Stories of forgotten dreams, and secrets we conceive.
In the heart’s deep chamber, emotions softly stir,
A symphony of whispers, in the quiet we confer.

Yet in this realm of silence, new visions start to bloom,
From the seeds of introspection, rising from the gloom.
In isolation’s cradle, creativity unfolds,
A tapestry of wonders, in solitude’s embrace, told.