The Sound of Silence

Dust on the clock, its hands frozen still,

a reminder of moments lost in the chill.

Time hangs in the air like a whisper unheard,

where seconds once raced, now the silence is stirred.

Each tick felt alive, like a heartbeat so strong,

but now it’s just quiet, where echoes belong.

I stand by the door, feeling life hold its breath,

watching the seconds embrace quiet death.

The dust motes swirl in the shaft of the light,

a memory of time that used to burn bright.

As I turn from the past, the shadows grow wide,

I’m left with a stillness that pulls me inside.