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Where Shadows Linger Still
The moon hangs low, a bone-white stare,
Upon the hushed and sleeping town.
Each window holds a hidden prayer,
As lonely whispers tumble down.
A phantom breeze through empty streets,
Carries the scent of yesterday,
Of laughter that no longer greets
The dawn, now turning cold and gray.
The ivy climbs a crumbling wall,
Each tendril, memory entwined.
A silent, sorrowful recall,
Of what we left so far behind.
The echoes cease, the visions fade,
But in the quiet, lingering gloom,
The weight of choices we have made
Fills every corner of the room.
©bfa053125
Copyright ©
Bernard F. Asuncion
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