In the quiet corners of my mind,
Where time's tapestry is finely twined,
Lie memories of days long gone,
A silent symphony, an ancient song.
In the amber hues of twilight's glow,
Whispers of yesteryears gently flow,
Each moment etched in the heart's embrace,
Old memories, a tender, timeless grace.
Beneath the willow's weeping boughs,
Recollections dance, a sacred vow,
Faces aged by the hands of time,
Yet in my heart, they remain in their prime.
A sepia tapestry unfolds,
Each frame a story, untold,
Of laughter echoing through the years,
And joy that overcame all fears.
In the attic of my soul, dusty and old,
Lie treasures of a love untold,
Letters penned with ink, now faded,
A testament to a bond once shaded.
Autumn leaves, a mosaic of gold,
Crunch beneath the stories untold,
Footprints of moments, lost in the past,
A gallery of emotions, forever to last.
Through the mist of time, I wander,
In the corridors where echoes meander,
Old photographs in a weathered frame,
Capturing smiles that never lost their flame.
Moonlit nights, shared secrets unfold,
Stars witness tales of silver and gold,
Echoes of laughter, a melody so sweet,
Old memories, a heartbeat's rhythmic beat.
A weathered rocking chair, worn with care,
Holds echoes of conversations rare,
Grandma's lullabies in the silent night,
Old memories, a flickering candlelight.
Faded pages of a cherished book,
Speak of the paths our footsteps took,
Friendship's garden, where seeds were sown,
Old memories, a love deeply grown.
Sunsets painting the sky in hues,
Brush strokes of oranges, reds, and blues,
Remind me of moments, shared with you,
Old memories, a kaleidoscope view.
The gentle rustle of the summer breeze,
Carries whispers of forgotten pleas,
To hold on tight, to never let go,
Old memories, like petals in the afterglow.
In the attic of my soul, shadows play,
Casting scenes of a bygone day,
A carousel of time, forever turning,
Old memories, a flame forever burning.
With every step, nostalgia weaves,
A tapestry of autumns' fallen leaves,
A quilt of moments, stitched in time,
Old memories, a vintage, sweet rhyme.
The ticking clock, a constant chime,
Measures the cadence of olden time,
Yet in my heart, the past abides,
Old memories, where love resides.
So, in the twilight's tender grace,
I trace the lines on life's weathered face,
For in each wrinkle, a story unfolds,
Old memories, where eternity holds.
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