Whispers of Time
Reflection
In the quiet embrace of aged hands, papers cradle secrets untold,
A soul steeped in wisdom, a life etched in gold.
Silent figures, cloaked in the shadows of yesteryear,
Their gaze, a mirror reflecting the depths of fear.
The old man's eyes, windows to a world long gone,
Hold the weight of stories yet to be spun.
The young woman, poised, her thoughts a mystery,
A bridge between the past and eternity.
The room, a canvas of muted tones, whispers of time,
Where every line and shadow tells a rhyme.
In this stillness, a symphony of thought,
A dance of light and shadow, a soulful knot.
For in these moments, we see ourselves reflected,
In the quiet, the chaos, the heart unreckoned.
This is not just a scene, but a mirror of our own,
A journey through time, where we are alone.
Yet, in this solitude, there's a shared breath,
A connection that transcends the bounds of death.
For in the quiet, the soul finds its voice,
And in the stillness, the heart finds its choice.