#EmptyShoes
In the corner by the door where dust gathers,

lie the empty shoes, a silence woven tight,

they tell stories whispered on the winds of yesterdays;

they stretch wide, waiting for the footsteps

that once danced on cobbled streets of laughter,

their dreams now echo in the hollow space,

where heartbeats once played like music in the dusk.
Each sole, a cradle of journeys—

wanderings through sunlit meadows,

and shadows stitched with the twilight of goodbyes,

yet now, they cradle only the weight of absence,

as if to embody the quiet absence of...