In the quiet whispers of twilight’s breath,
I stand beneath the shadowed eaves,
Counting stars like grains of sand,
Awaiting dreams the night conceives.

The ticking clock, a lullaby,
Sings a song of what’s to come,
Each second stretching like a sigh,
In the dance of time, I’m numb.

With every rustle of the leaves,
Hope blooms like morning’s light,
In patience, I weave my heart’s reprieve,
In the tapestry of night.

The world may turn with hurried pace,
But here I stand, in gentle grace,
For in the waiting, I find my place,
In the quiet, a serene embrace.