In the quiet of dawn’s fading breath,
A whisper of time slips through our grasp,
Like silver mist on a moonlit path,
It dances away, as shadows clasp.

Moments fall like autumn leaves,
Golden, fragile, in the breeze,
Each one a dream that never stays,
Slipping away through memory's haze.

The stars, once bright, begin to fade,
Their light dissolving in the dark,
And all we’ve known, the songs we’ve played,
Become a distant, softened spark.

We reach, we hold, but time’s a stream,
Flowing fast through hands that pray,
Yet in the current, soft and deep,
We find ourselves just slipping away.

As echoes of our laughter wane,
And the sun dips low, then disappears,
We float on waves of quiet refrain,
Slipping away, with whispered tears.

But in the stillness, there's a peace,
A gentle sigh, a final grace,
For in slipping away, we release,
The hold on time, in its endless chase.
© Larry Ridener