Hours

In the quiet passage of hours, whispers unfold,

Moments fleeting, a tapestry of stories retold.

Each tick of the clock, a heartbeat's gentle sway,

Marking the rhythm of night and day.

In the early hours, when dawn paints the sky,

Hope awakens with the sun's first sigh.

A canvas blank, where dreams take flight,

In the soft glow of morning's light.

Noon arrives with bustling streets,

Where life's symphony plays to diverse beats.

Busy hands and bustling feet,

In the pulse of the city, hearts meet.

Glimpses of grace in a tranquil space.

And when night unveils its starlit cloak,