The moon spills silver across the tide,
A whisper of ghosts in the hush of the air,
Petals unravel where lost lovers cried,
Time bends like a ribbon, frayed and bare,
And sorrow sings where shadows hide.

The wind wears the voices of those left behind,
Their laughter like embers still glowing in dust,
Soft hands now woven in memory’s bind,
A touch that dissolves when morning is ******,
Yet echoes linger in a heart entwined.

Dew laces the grass like a mourner’s sigh,
A requiem hummed by the pulse of the sea,
Dreams that were cradled now tremble and die,
Their ashes entwined in the roots of a tree,
And love, though faded, refuses to lie.

A candle still flickers in windows long cold,
Its flame a defiance, a wish left unspoken,
Like pages of stories too heavy to hold,
Written in ink that time has broken,
Yet still, the embers of hope burn gold.