Dust settles on forgotten frames,
where voices once danced in golden light.
A chair creaks under the weight of silence,
and the walls breathe stories no longer told.

Footsteps linger in the hallway,
shadows stretched thin by time.
The air tastes of memory-
bitter,sweet,heavy with absence.

Outside, the trees bow gently
as if mourning something lost but unnamed.
The wind slips through cracked windows,
carrying whispers too soft to hear.

Nothing remains untouched.
Even the quiet has changed shape.
And in this stillness,
the past does not sleep-
it watches.