In the quiet dance of shadows,
Time weaves its gentle thread,
Through moments lost and borrowed,
In dreams where past is fed.

The ticking clock, a soft refrain,
Echoes in the heart’s deep core,
Memories rise like gentle rain,
As time opens every door.

Seasons change in silent grace,
Leaves fall, then bloom anew,
Time’s embrace leaves not a trace,
Yet shapes the world we view.

In the whispers of the night,
Time holds secrets, old and wise,
Guiding stars with gentle light,
In the endless, boundless skies.