I wonder, as you drift through silent air,
barefoot on the edges of twilight’s stare,
where do your thoughts like rivers run,
under the hush of a sinking sun?

Do echoes call you from distant years,
soft as whispers, thick with tears?
Do you trace the paths your heart once knew,
through meadows gold with morning dew?

Is it longing that lingers on your skin,
a ghost of laughter lost in the wind?
Or is it hope that fills your chest,
a quiet ache, a fleeting rest?

I wonder, as you wander there,
do you dream of hands that once held care?
Of voices warm, of love untold,
of stories spun in autumn’s gold?

Or do you dream of what may be,
a shore unseen beyond the sea?
A place where all the echoes fade,
and only light and longing stay.

I wonder.