In the quiet of the night, memories fade,
Like mist upon the morning air,
Echoes of a time once bright,
Slowly vanish, no longer there.
Faces and voices, once so dear,
Now shadows in a distant dream,
The heart learns to let go,
Life flows like a gentle stream.
Time, the healer of all wounds,
Softly whispers, “Let it be,”
Embracing the present moment,
We find peace in being free.
Though the past may linger,
Its hold begins to wane,
In the art of gentle forgetting,
We learn to live again.