In the quiet pause of time,
Between the dates etched in stone,
Lies a life lived in whispers,
A journey yet unknown.
The dash marks fleeting moments,
Silent echoes of laughter and tears,
Carving stories of love and loss,
Through the tapestry of years.
In its brevity, we seek meaning,
In the space between birth and end,
Chasing dreams and fleeting joys,
With every curve and bend.
Ode to the dash, the gentle line,
That holds the essence of our days,
In its simplicity, we find strength,
To fill each moment with praise.