In the quite folds of twilight's grace ,
Where echoes drift and shadows trace,
There lies a realm both soft and vast,
Where moments linger from past .

The laughter of a summer's days,
The whispered dreams that slipped away ,
Each memory a golden thread ,
Waves through a fabric of what's said.

In corners where the light is dim,
And time itself seems to grow slim,
A cherished glance , a fleeting touch ,
Remains a world that means so much.

We drift on waves of what once was ,
In reveries , in silent pause ,
As fleeting as the morning dew ,
Yet every drop holds a hue.

For let us hold these fragments dear,
For in their presence, we are near,
To all the lives we've lived and known,
In every memory , we are shown.

© Ayhdnas