In the quiet corners of forgotten halls,
Dust gathers, weaving stories untold,
Whispers of time in its silent calls,
Secrets of ages in its gentle hold.

Beneath the moon’s soft, silvery glow,
It dances lightly on the breeze,
A silent witness to all below,
A memory keeper, with tranquil ease.

In sunlit beams, it glimmers bright,
A tapestry of moments, vast and wide,
In every particle, a tale takes flight,
Of laughter, tears, and dreams that died.

So let us wander through dust’s embrace,
To find the echoes of the past,
In every speck, a time and place,
A fleeting whisper, meant to last.