In the quiet moments, just before sleep claims the day,
Memories whisper on the edges of dreams,
Unbidden, they come—a parade of echoes,
Ghostly imprints of laughter, tears, and whispers of ‘if only’.
They dance in the shadows, these specters of the past,
Each step, each twirl, a story untold,
Their hands reach out, grasping for the now,
But morning’s light scatters them back to where they belong.
Only to return, night after night,
A gentle, relentless reminder,
That what was, will always be,
A part of the endless tapestry of me.