#EchoesOfAbsence

In the quiet halls of memory’s keep,
Where shadows stretch and secrets sleep,
There lingers a sound, faint and thin,
An echo of absence, a voice within.

It whispers low where silence reigns,
A fleeting touch, a ghostly strain.
No substance found, no figure clear,
Yet still it speaks, and still I hear.

The creak of a chair that holds no form,
The warmth of a hand no longer warm.
The scent of rain on forgotten stone,
A presence lost, yet not alone.

In twilight hours, when the light recedes,
And the heart is raw, the soul it pleads,
For what was once and cannot be,
A tether to time, eternity’s plea.

I walk through rooms where laughter stayed,
Now hollowed walls where silence played.
The air is thick with unspoken...