Echoes of You

In quiet hours, your name returns,
a whisper soft as autumn air;
memories flicker — gentle burns,
of moments lost, yet still held there.

I miss your laughter in the dawn,
the warmth that lingered in your gaze;
I walk familiar paths alone,
yet find your shadow in the haze.

Time keeps moving, so must I,
but still, my heart forgets the rule;
for in its chambers, low and shy,
your echo lives, both kind and cruel.

Missing you — a silent art,
painted in sighs, in dreams, in night;
a tender ache that haunts the heart,
a longing wrapped in fading light.