In the hush of dawnâs first light,
Time whispers tales of yesteryears,
Softly weaving memories tight,
In a tapestry of joys and fears.
The sun ascends, casting its glow,
Shadows stretch and moments pass,
Each second a seed we sow,
In the garden of the looking glass.
As twilight paints the sky with hues,
Timeâs relentless march proceeds,
Leaves fall, and seasons renew,
Lifeâs journey on a path it leads.
When night descends with a starry cloak,
Dreams are whispers of timeâs embrace,
In slumberâs realm, we gently float,
Awaiting dawnâs tender grace.