Whispers of Yesterday

When the night grows silent and deep,

And life's heavy burdens softly fade,

Old memories begin to bloom again,

In the garden where nostalgia is made.

The clock keeps climbing toward the dawn,

Each second a mountain we silently climb.

How many faces once danced through life—

Now only echoes across the time.

Some have stayed, some have vanished,

Some linger as names in the dream.

Yet in the quiet, my heart still counts,

Each soul within its gentle stream.