Between the lines of stone and time,
A dash etched quietly, sublime.
Silent witness to life’s fleeting grace,
A mark that holds an endless space.

In whispers of wind and rustling leaves,
The dash remembers, never grieves.
Moments of laughter, echoes of pain,
Stories untold in the falling rain.

Beneath the sky’s vast, eternal dome,
It binds the years we call our home.
A simple line, yet deeply profound,
Carrying dreams where hearts are bound.

So treasure the dash, this humble sign,
A symbol of journeys intertwined.
For in its span, our lives unfold,
In whispers of silver and tales of gold.