In the quiet hours of the evening,
when shadows stretch like whispers,
we dance on borrowed time,
each tick of the clock a gentle reminder,
a subtle nudge that pulls us closer
to the edge of what is yet to come.

We gather fragments of moments,
like scattered leaves in an autumn breeze,
holding tightly to the warmth of laughter,
the glimmer of a shared glance,
each heartbeat a note in this fragile melody,
playing softly against the backdrop of our days.

Here, where the horizon meets...