A whisper caught in twilight's gleam,
A fleeting dream, a fragile scheme.
Like morning mist, it softly creeps,
Through shadowed depths where silence sleeps.

A touch of grace, a fleeting art,
A tender beat, a soulful start.
In echoes faint, the spirit's plea,
A longing soul, wild and free.

As shadows dance and stars ignite,
A flicker hope, a guiding light.
In transient moments, beauty's born,
A fragile bloom, a precious morn.