In the hush of morning’s breath,
Where shadows dance with light,
The echoes of a silent choir,
Sing softly through the night.

Each note a whispered memory,
Of moments lost to time,
A melody of heartache,
In a mournful, gentle rhyme.

The world is still, yet full of sound,
A chorus of the past,
In every silent dawn that breaks,
These echoes ever last.

And though the day will chase away,
The remnants of the song,
The heart will hold its melody,
Where it forever will belong.