Traces of Us

In the café window, sunlight breaks,

casting shadows from the hands that quake.

Smudges left behind like secrets shared,

a world observed, the lives laid bare.

Fingers danced across the glass, unseen,

a story written where we’ve all been.

Each mark a whisper of fleeting time,

stories etched like the taste of lime.

Those fingerprints, a map of dreams,

illuminated by soft sunbeams.

A gallery of lives, a canvas of us,

each reflection a moment, each touch a trust.