The Beauty of Memories

Soft winds hum through ancient trees,

whispering stories in trembling leaves.

Sunlight dances on rippling streams,

painting gold across childhood dreams.

Barefoot laughter on dew-kissed grass,

footsteps fading but never past.

The sky was wide, the air so free,

a canvas brushed with memory.

Shadows stretched in amber light,

chasing echoes of pure delight.

The world was vast, yet small enough,

held in hands still soft with trust.

Morning mist and twilight’s glow,

carved the years like rivers flow.

Each petal, each wave, each autumn hue,

a thread in time, forever true.

Now seasons turn, yet still they bring

the rustling call of youth in spring.

Not lost, not gone—just rearranged,

a symphony that never fades.