"Solitude shapes the mind, where each tick of a clock becomes a doorway to forgotten dreams."
Clocks dance in silence, moments entwined,
Each tick a heartbeat, a thread to unwind.
Soft light caresses the stories laid bare,
In this haven of solace, time lingers with care.
Wooden floors echo with whispers of past,
A neatly made bed holds dreams that contrast.
Contemplation blooms where nostalgia takes flight,
In this room of reflections, shadows cradle light.
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