River of Time

In the tapestry of existence, a delicate thread,

Time, a fleeting whisper, softly spread.

A breath of moments, a sigh unseen,

A ghostly dance, where seconds glean.

Through the loom of life, it weaves its song,

A melody of seconds, not lingering long.

In the quiet spaces between heartbeats,

It paints its verses on life's winding streets.

A whisper in the rustle of leaves,

An ephemeral dance that nothing deceives.

Through the moonlit nights and sunlit days,

Time's hushed murmurings find their ways.

It tiptoes through the corridors of the past,

A shadowy figure, not destined to last.

Yet, in its passage, stories unfold,

In the fabric of time, tales are told.

A brush of breeze, a touch so light,

As if time were a feather in flight.

Silken threads in the cosmic loom,

Weaving through joy, weaving through gloom.

Oh, the elusive whispers that time imparts,

A language written on our beating hearts.

In every heartbeat, a fleeting rhyme,

A dance with echoes, a dance with time.

So, cherish the whispers, the moments so fleet,

In the grand tapestry where time and life meet.

For in the soft cadence of existence's chime,

We find the beauty in time's fleeting rhyme.