In a quiet room where the sunlight fades,
She sits by the window, her gaze a haze.
Once vivid stories now slip through her hand,
A tapestry unraveling, strand by strand.
Her fingers trace patterns on the worn armrest,
Searching for echoes of a life once blessed.
A name, a face—oh, how they elude,
Shadows of joy lost in solitude.
Pictures on walls, a map of her past,
But the moments they hold cannot seem to last.
The laughter of children, the warmth of a kiss,
Drift like dreams into a dark abyss.
Yet deep in her heart, a flicker remains,
A fragment of love through time’s cruel chains.
It surfaces briefly, then fades away,
A fleeting sunbeam in the clouds of gray.
And though she’s adrift in this endless sea,
Her soul still sings of what used to be.
For even as memories slip and decay,
Their essence lingers, lighting her way.
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