TIME OF WHISPERS

TIME OF WHISPERS

Between echoes of forgotten
laughter and unseen spaces,
I feel the ticking seconds,
where memories linger
in the quiet places.

In an old photograph,
blurred by touch,
your essence remains,
as a trace of existence,
fading into the known.

Unspoken conversations
of suspended words,
silent in the air like mist,
taste of what could have been,
now the fabric has gone.