There was a time
when silence was enough,
when the wind spoke
and we listened.

When mornings came slowly,
unfolding like soft paper,
and laughter lived
in the corners of the day.

There was a time
when eyes met without fear,
when hands reached out
just to hold,
not to prove.

When we believed
in the permanence of seasons,
and didn't count hours
like coins slipping through fingers.

There was a time-
and maybe,
somewhere quiet and small,
that time is still breathing.