"Each moment unfurls like a petal in time's garden, revealing the beauty in what has been and what awaits."
Time drips from the clocks like paint on a canvas,
Fingers trace the edges of moments now past.
In blue drapery she binds the echoes of silence,
Each tick, a heartbeat, tethered but vast.
Shadows linger, casting shapes of forgotten,
As arches envelop the whispers of fate.
In contemplation, the world seems both opened,
Her gaze finds the threads of a love yet to await.
