In the hushed hours before dawn,
When the world holds its breath,
A silent echo lingers,
Reverberating through the stillness.

Whispers of forgotten dreams
Intertwine with the shadows,
Dancing in the corners of memory,
Unseen, but felt deep within.

Time suspends its relentless march,
Pausing to listen,
To the unspoken truths,
In the quiet spaces of existence.

Silent echoes of laughter,
Of sorrow, of love,
Resonate through the corridors of the heart,
Leaving imprints, invisible yet indelible.

In the solitude of night,
When the world is wrapped in silence,
The echo of a sigh,
Of a thought unvoiced, softly resounds.

It is in these moments,
Between the ticking of seconds,
That the soul finds its voice,
In the silent echo of its being.

A reflection of life’s essence,
Captured in the stillness,
An echo that speaks,
Without uttering a sound.

Silent, yet profound,
It spins a web of emotions,
In the spaces where words fall short,
An eternal echo in the void.

In a quiet corner, an old man sat,
A pint of beer, a worn flat cap.
The crossword before him, ink-stained and neat,
A puzzle, a riddle, a mental feat.

His glasses perched on the bridge of his nose,
A furrowed brow, as his mind arose.
With every sip, a memory stirred,
Of days gone by, of stories unheard.

The pub around him buzzed and hummed,
But in his world, all was numbed.
The clinking glasses, the lunchtime cheer,
Muffled sounds, far yet near.

His pen hovered, a moment’s pause,
Lost in thoughts of forgotten cause.
A chuckle escaped, a clue made clear,
In that moment, time disappeared.

The crossword, a canvas of black and white,
A dance of words, a silent flight.
Each answer a piece of his history,
Each blank space, a whispered mystery.

In his solitude, he found delight,
In the simple joys, in the midday light.
A life well-lived, reflected in ink,
In the corner, he'd ponder, he'd think.

As the afternoon aged, the crowd thinned out,
The crossword completed, without a doubt.
The old man smiled, a gentle sigh,
Content and peaceful, he closed an eye.

In that quiet corner, he’d sit once more,
A pint of beer, a mind to explore.
For in the puzzles, he found his peace,
A tapestry of life, a sweet release.

They sat together in the dimly lit room,
Two souls entwined in an invisible gloom.
The air grew thick, as the seconds stretched,
In a silence profound, their nerves were etched.

Eyes would flicker, searching for a place to land,
Fingers fidgeted, twisting a silver band.
A cough, a sigh, a shuffling of feet,
Echoed like thunder, in a silence discreet.

"Lovely weather," one finally said,
As the other nodded, wishing for words instead.
Their cups of tea, now lukewarm and still,
Matched the conversation, awkward and shrill.

Thoughts raced wildly, but words refused to stay,
Like skittish birds, they fluttered away.
A clock ticked loudly, in the corner it chimed,
Filling the void, with seconds unkind.

Minds would wander, then snap back in place,
Searching for cues, in the other's face.
An accidental glance, then quickly withdrawn,
Eyes meeting briefly, then back to the drawn.

Awkward silence, a dance so hard to bear,
Yet in its midst, a strange bond shared.
For sometimes in the quiet, without a word,
Connections are made, though nothing is heard.

In that fragile stillness, where time seemed to freeze,
They found a fleeting comfort, a strange, subtle ease.
Though silence hung heavy, like a cloud above,
In its awkward embrace, they discovered a kind of love.

Does anyone find their jeans have shrunk when they have just come out the wash?
The waistband tightens, seams constrict, the fabric feels awfully posh.
Once a perfect fit, they hugged curves just right,
Now they pinch and squeeze, a denim plight.

We sigh and tug, perform a little dance,
Hoping for a miracle, to give them one more chance.
We blame the dryer, the water too hot,
Or maybe, just maybe, it's the snack we've sought.

But in this tiny battle, there's a hint of truth,
A reminder of changes, in age and youth.
For clothes may shrink, and time may fly,
But we'll wear our jeans with heads held high.

Does anyone find their jeans have shrunk when they have just come out the wash?
It's life's little quirks that give us a good ol' squash.
So we'll laugh it off, and embrace each day,
For in our favourite jeans, we'll find our way.

I woke up for a *** last night and it took me half an hour,
My weary mind began to wander, musing on midnight's power.
The moonlight gently filtered through the curtains, soft and pale,
A sleepy, silent witness to my sluggish, bleary tale.

The clock's unyielding ticking whispered secrets in my ear,
As shadows danced upon the walls, with movements faint but clear.
In the quiet of the night, where dreams and reality blur,
I pondered life's great mysteries, while sleep became a whir.

The bathroom tiles were icy, a chilly underfoot embrace,
Yet, in that moment, oddly, I found a peaceful place.
For sometimes in the stillness, when the world is hushed and calm,
We find a fleeting solace, a rare, elusive balm.

Half an hour felt like ages, in the dead of night so deep,
Yet, with my mind now settled, I found the gift of sleep.
Back to bed I drifted, to dreams both strange and bright,
Grateful for that quiet pause in the stillness of the night.

The mirror stands, a silent sage,
Reflecting more than age and stage.
It looks beyond the skin and bone,
Into the realms where secrets are shown.

Beyond the surface, polished bright,
It glimpses shadows, soft and slight.
The joys and sorrows intertwined,
The echoes of a troubled mind.

In the depths of pupils' gleam,
It sees the dreams that dare to dream.
The hopes that flutter, frail yet bold,
The stories yet to be told.

It sees the tears that never fell,
The silent cries, the hidden hell.
The scars that mar the inner heart,
The battles fought in the dark.

Laughter lines that speak of grace,
Of moments cherished, time embraced.
The passions that ignite the soul,
The fragments that make us whole.

It senses fears that grip and bind,
The doubts that linger in the mind.
The love that flows, a gentle stream,
The faith that fuels the wildest dream.

In the mirror's deep, unwavering gaze,
It reads the past, the future's maze.
A testament to all we've been,
The silent witness, the unseen.

For in the depths where emotions dwell,
The mirror sees and knows us well.
Beyond the image, clear and true,
It reflects the essence of me and you.

In the vast expanse of life,
Where dreams and hopes take flight.
Freedom’s treasure held so dear,
Dispels my darkest fear.

No chains to bind or walls confine,
My spirit soars, I cross the line.
With every breath, I feel the breeze,
A whisper of hope and of ease.

Though life may twist and storms may roar,
Freedom’s my anchor, my very core.
It's not the wealth or power I seek,
But the liberty to be unique.

In moments of doubt, in times of strife,
Freedom’s the essence of my life.
A guiding star, a light so bright,
Reminds us who we are, takes flight.

In the end when all is said,
Freedom’s all I ever had.
With this freedom, I am rich,
In ways that gold could never stitch.

Wealth is measured not in coin,
But in the sky where dreams do join.
Choices made and paths explored,
Peace within, soul restored.

My richness lies in freedom’s grace,
In life I lead, my own pace.
To which I thank my God above,
For freedom’s gift, blessed with love.

In His grace, I find my way,
To live in freedom day by day.